


Jesus Was a Cross Maker

by EllisyaSyron



Series: And You'll Never Walk Alone [2]
Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell, Fangirl - Rainbow Rowell, Simon Snow & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Fluff, M/M, SO MUCH FLUFF, Seventh year, Slow Burn, There's fluff I promise, True Love, Vampires, Werewolves, You'll get there, baz is not a werewolf, gal pals, gay wizard boys what more do you need to know, lots of swears
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-12
Updated: 2017-06-14
Packaged: 2018-10-31 05:02:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 30
Words: 61,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10892253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllisyaSyron/pseuds/EllisyaSyron
Summary: Part two of Happy People Shine Brighter!Everyone is reeling from the confrontation with Dr Lang, and Penny, Baz, and Simon are forced to spend the summer alone with their thoughts. When they get back to school in the fall, everything is different. Or is it?A new ally wants Penny to help her carry out Dr Lang's plans. Baz takes up baby sitting, sort of, a third year girl with a secret and struggles to keep a few secrets of his own. Like, how he's still desperately in love with Simon Snow.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, friends! If you have not read Happy People Shine Brighter, please do so! It would mean so much to me and this will make a lot more sense if you do. I've tried to catch some things up here in the next few chapters so you won't be completely lost if you start here, but you will have missed the first kiss and why would you want to miss that?
> 
> Thank you and I hope you enjoy my fic!! :D
> 
>  
> 
> ******  
> Edit- I got an ask about the title so I'll just explain here. 
> 
> Rainbow Rowell makes Spotify playlists for almost all her work and "Jesus Was a Cross Maker" by Judee Sill is an awesome song on the Carry On/Simon playlist. I suggest you check it out!! 
> 
> The song:  
> [ click here for music ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z8tDmPmC_Bk)

BAZ

            There’s no one else on the railway platform. Just me, and the grey morning light. All the parents will come in on the next train, and all the students will leave with them later this afternoon. Tomorrow, if they’re eighth years. They’ll want to stay for Leaver’s Ball tonight. But for now, it’s just me. I’m sitting on my trunk, head in my hands, trying to think about anything but last night. But I can’t.

            Last night confirmed everything I’ve always known. Snow’s a bloody hero, and I never will be. No matter what I do, I’ll always be a monster in his eyes. _Dark creature._ I carried him out of there, and he still turned away. I could see the disgust on his face. I try to tell myself I don’t care. Of course I care. Even more so after last night. After he sacrificed himself. _For me._ Courageous fuck.

            He was brilliant. But he doesn’t want me.

            At least it happened now. I have the whole summer away. I can forget about him. Maybe _this_ will do the trick. One final rejection. One final confirmation of what I've been telling myself for years. I try to think about something else. Anything else.

_Crowley._

            Even now I can’t let go. I can’t forget how he told me to protect myself. Can’t forget him calling my name, calling for me... Can’t forget his hands on my shirt. Or the smell of smoke as he slept in my bed. _How am I ever going to sleep in that bed and not feel him there?_ The way his back pressed into my chest each time he took a breath. And how I couldn’t relax until he took the next one.

            I’m utterly spent. I fed before the fight, but then I used more magic in a few hours than I would normally do in weeks. And then I couldn’t sleep. And I couldn’t stay.

            Part of me regrets leaving. If Bunce hadn’t been there, maybe we could have talked… maybe…

            No. This is exactly why I had to go. I can’t keep up this stupid dream anymore. It’s sick. To want something you know you can’t have. To obsess about it. The only sane thing is to move on.

            But I can’t.

 

SIMON

            I don’t think about Watford when I’m in care. I don’t let myself. I don’t think about the food or my room or Penny or Agatha or the Mage. It hurts too much to be tormented with all the good things you can’t touch. But thinking about Baz has always been the exception. He never was a _good_ thing, never a thing I thought I’d miss, so he wasn’t off limits. I’d spend all summer wondering what he was up to, what he was plotting for me… Like last summer, I grew three inches and I kept wondering if I’d finally be taller than him. Kept imagining what it would be like to look down on him, finally. But I got back and he was still taller than me. And I think he’s grown since then, too.

            Only, I don’t think I mind so much now. I kind of like it. Actually, the more I think about it, I like a lot of things about Baz. I always thought I was dead jealous; of how strong he is, and graceful, and good at sports, and magic, and languages. But now I just admire it. It’s just… cool. I dunno. I mean, don't get me wrong. There's still so many things about him that drive me mad. He's so smug and posh and even when we're not fighting, he still doesn't let his guard down. I still never know what he's thinking. But...

            But I keep thinking about how nice it’s going to be to go back and not worry about fighting him anymore. To be like it was back in March when I could ask him about homework, and just talk... I know I shouldn’t, but I think about what it would be like to have his help fighting the Humdrum. Between Penny and him, they’d have it sorted by Christmas I bet. I’m getting ahead of myself. I don’t even know if he’d be willing to do that. I mean, Penny says he can’t be a complete villain, not if he’s fighting werewolves. (Will he still do that, now that he’s been Turned? Again?)

            “I don’t think you’d have feelings for anyone _truly_ evil,” she said before we left Watford. "And no one truly evil could be interested in _you_."

            I hope she’s right. I know he hates the Humdrum as much as any mage. I know he does nice things for people he cares about. I know he cares if I live or die. And I know he’s a blinding good kisser. That’s not really proof of anything, just nice to remember. I spend whole days remembering that. It fills up half of June.

            Then there’s the other half. The other thing I can’t stop thinking about that’s not quite about Watford and therefore not off limits. I killed a person.

            Penny told me the werewolf was Dr Lang. I remember him. He took an interest in me in our third year, and I liked his class. I’ve always done better in science than Elocution or Magic Words or any of the bloody languages at Watford. He even thought I might do well in a career in science, which was nice of him to say considering we all know I really only have one future. I was sad when he left, and used to ask his daughter how he was doing when I'd see her. And now I’ve killed him. I don’t even know if she knows.

            Penny says he was bit in our third year. That was my fault, too. If I’d have only taken the were dogs out sooner, none of this would have happened. I relive the night of the full moon over and over, sometimes even in my dreams. I scare the other kids in care when I scream myself awake. I must have said something in my sleep, because I’ve heard them whisper that I’m a killer. And they’re right.

 _If only I hadn’t gone off… But I had to._ Penny says the harness was what helped Dr Lang keep control of the beast inside him, and I’d already destroyed that. _If I hadn’t destroyed the harness…_ But that was an accident, and I only did it because he was going after Baz. _If Baz hadn’t been there…_ But I probably would have gone off just the same, that’s what the doctor wanted… I go around like this in circles, but it does nothing but make the black hole in my chest bigger. I can’t undo it. Nothing makes it ok.

            I guess Dr Lang told Penny he knew he was going to die. That it was all part of his plan. He didn’t tell her _why_ , though. Then someone destroyed all of his notes, so we never will know what the hell it was all for. It’s all so miserably pointless.

            I get angry with him sometimes. That he put me in that position. That he purposely pushed me to that point. And I don’t even know why. That his daughter won’t even know what happened to him, why he’s gone. I’ll have to face her in the autumn. I’ll have to tell her. If my parents were dead, I’d want someone to tell me.

            Anyway, when I get really low— like, lower than low, sub-basement level low, I think of Baz. I remember that in that moment, I thought it was the beast or Baz. And I made the only choice I _could_ make. That is, if Penny’s right and Baz isn’t evil.

            Thank Merlin, Penny is usually right.

 

PENELOPE

            Agatha and I have hung out alone three times this summer. Three times I've tried to tell her about Baz and Simon, and three times I've donked it up. It's probably hard for any girl to hear that her ex has moved on, even if she _is_ over him already. Is it going to be even harder to hear he's moved on for a bloke? I keep thinking, she has to understand. I mean, she’ll get it, right? Since she had a crush on Baz, too. But maybe that only makes it worse. Like being rejected twice over, by Baz _and_ Simon. I mean, it's not her fault or anything. Like, literally _nothing_ she could have done would have made them want her. (Wait, maybe that makes it worse.)

            I have to do it today. We’re painting our nails, and I’m sure there’s a better way to do this with magic. Some way to make the polish go on and dry instantly. That way you don’t ruin it when you inevitably have to pee as soon as you’re done applying it. Agatha is getting bored. She’s probably going to leave soon, and I have no idea how to bring up the fact that Simon and Baz kissed. (Maybe because I have to pinch myself every time I think it.)

            “I wonder what Simon’s up to this summer.” I try to sound like I’m just thinking aloud. (It’s the best I can manage.)

            Agatha shrugs. Great. Good job, Penny.

            “Are you two still not talking?” I try again.

            She shrugs again. _Morgana_. “We’re not _not_ talking,” she finally says. “I mean, we said goodbye at the gate.”

            “Do you think you’ll come back to sit at our table in the fall?” I’m asking for myself as well. I do miss Agatha.

            “Well, yeah, sure. Sometimes.” I frown. She shrugs and looks away. Is she going to be sitting with Dev, now? Wait, is Baz going to be sitting with _us_? “Sometimes I’ll probably sit with Trixie and Keris.”

            I nearly knock over the bottle of Vicious Trollop I was using. “ _Why?_

            "Because I'm their friend? You know, just because _you_ don't like them doesn't mean they're not good people."

            "Good people? Good people would have the common decency not to make out three feet from my head when I'm trying to sleep!"

            She shakes her head at me."Sometimes I think you're a little homophobic, Penny."

            "Pardon?" I say, mocking politeness. I'm this close to telling her. _This_ close to blowing her clueless little mind.

            (Or maybe not.)

            I just tell her I would think it's was gross no matter who Trixie snogged if it was three feet from my face.

            "Well, outside of that, they're actually pretty nice. Really into girly stuff, unlike some people." Agatha sighs and starts packing up her nail polishes. _Penelope, why do you put your foot in your mouth so much? And doubly so with Agatha?_

            "Hey, I'm sorry," I say quickly. "I think it's cool you're hanging out with them. I don't have to get it."

            "Thanks, Penny. I think that was almost nice," she says. She lets me squirm for a second, then laughs. "I never thought you'd be thrilled about it. But can you not..." she closes one eye and scrunches up her face, "can you not make me feel like a prat about it? 'Cause I really don't want to spend the last two years at Watford only hanging around guys who've chucked me. Or who I've chucked."

 _Oh._ Maybe I won't tell her then. In fact, I think Simon should tell her, if anyone. Maybe no one will have to. Maybe the whole thing will fall apart and she won't even have to know. Except, that would be awful. Merry Morgana. _What if it doesn't work out?_

            "Pen? I really do have to go." I didn't notice Agatha has stood up and is waiting for me to walk her out. "I'm meeting Keris and Minty to go shopping. You... you could come?"

            I know she's only offering to be polite. The places those girls shop don't even carry clothes in my size.

            "No, that's fine. Micah and I have a Skype date." It's not a lie. We do. _Tomorrow_.

            Actually, I spend the whole rest of the afternoon looking up spells to cure heartbreak on my laptop, just in case. Simon’s always been obsessed with Baz; I’m afraid that won’t change even if his feelings for him have. If it doesn’t work out… I don’t think wallowing will cut it this time.


	2. Chapter 2

SIMON

            My birthday comes and goes without anyone noticing. Except the Mage. He's too busy to visit, but he sends me a card. (Sort of. It's a scrap of parchment wrapped around some cash with "Happy Birthday, Simon. Sorry I wasn't in the country. Very important business." written in his hurried scrawl.)

            It's fine. I didn't expect anything at all. He was pretty upset when I saw him last. I was pretty upset. Now I'm just sorry for the reminder.

            At least the Humdrum never attacks me when I'm in care. I can let my guard down a little. I wait around every day till afternoon when we can go down the street to the park (it's not even a park really, just a lot of flat grass) to play football. I could probably take all the other kids on and win (there's ten of us that play). I'm two years older than the oldest, and besides they're all terrified of me, even more so than Normals usually are. My magic would put them off to start, but I don't think the nightmares and constantly being in a right strop helps. And they all think I smoke like a chimney because of the way my magic smells.

            I wish I could talk to Penny. Or Baz. Or to Penny _about_ Baz. I'm in some place I've never heard of north of Birmingham called Rumer Hill. It's four hours by train to Penny's. (Four and half to Baz's, not that I've thought about it.) Only two and a half to Liverpool. I could sign myself out for good, take the train and see a match. But then where would I go?

            I've never thought of leaving care before. But then, I guess I never thought I belonged anywhere else.

 

BAZ

            My father gave me permission to drive one of his cars with him after my 16th birthday last fall. A Jaguar XF. Dark red and fully-loaded, of course. Would make any sixteen-year-old salivate. I never have had much time to drive it since I've been away at school. Now I take it out every other day or so. (He even lets me take it alone now.) I think it makes Father happy. Driving is a proper masculine activity. He wouldn't be happy if he knew why I did it. Twice I've driven over an hour on the M3 just to turn back around because I don't actually know where Snow spends the summers.

_If I could just ask him why..._

            Does he still live in a home? I've never asked. He must be almost 17, too. Surely he could live on his own now. Maybe he can't afford to. When _is_ his birthday? It didn't even occur to me, but he's never celebrated it at Watford. Maybe he doesn't know it...

            Aleister Crowley, he's so pathetic. I'm dreading it already. Seeing him again at school, thin and drawn. His hair cut short. (I wonder how it feels.) (That's all I'll get to do. Wonder.)

            Sometimes on these drives I'll go to see Niall. Less frequently, Dev. I couldn't ignore him forever, not without the families getting suspicious. He's pretty pleased with himself, now he thinks he's brought me to heel. Now that he's snogging Snow's girl. ( _Ex_ -girl.) I still kick his arse in FIFA, though.

 

 SIMON

            It's nearly the end of July when the Mage shows up at the home. I've slunk back into my life here, so it's no surprise that when I see him, I think he must be a dream. He looks mad in his green uniform right in the middle of the suburbs in muggy mid-summer. But he's the same as always: roguishly handsome and serious.

            "No time to lose, Simon," he says. "Important work to do." And away we go. Me in my trackie bottoms and too-big white tank top. I outgrew last year's shorts and they didn't have any new to fit. (I'm saving my birthday money for something other than new clothes. What's the point? I'll have all I need when I get back to Watford. Provided I've stopped growing.)

            It turns out the important work is to save a community of leprechauns from a clan of worsegers near Derby. I feel like this is more a job for a magickal exterminator than the supposed Chosen One, but I don't complain. It's nice to see the Mage again. _Not_ angry. And trusting me with a mission again. Even if it is just worsegers. And it's kind of fun, actually. We don't have to kill the worsegers, just catch them without getting bit. (They're not venomous; their mouths are just very dirty.)

            When we're done, the Mage sends them all to Peak District with a flick of his wand and some quick words in Greek that I couldn't translate with a book and an hour. (I ended up scraping by in Greek, but I didn't do well enough in Latin to continue on next year.) (It's fine, I guess.) The leprechauns are so thrilled, they give me a whole cauldron full of gold. It's useless, it will disappear if I give it to another magician. I take it anyway, for no other reason than because I don't want to make them upset. Leprechauns look horridly ugly when they cry, and when they're _angry_...

            Anyway, I take the gold. The Mage turns the cauldron into a black leather duffel bag. It's nicer than anything I would dare have at the children's home. Looks more like something a posh model type would take on their trip to Paris or Milan or wherever models go. I tell the Mage I can't take it.

            "Well, then. I suppose I can take it back to Watford for you." But before he pops away again, the Mage asks, "Would you like an ice cream?"

            I shrug. "Yeah, I'd love one."

            He's never taken me for ice cream before. I feel like a little kid. Maybe he feels bad about before. Is this how the Mage apologizes? It's just petrol station soft serve (the Mage doesn't get any) and it's melting away in the July heat so I have to eat it fast or it will be all over me, but... We've never done anything like this before. He's my guardian, but he's also the headmaster and the Head of the Coven, he doesn't have time for ice cream. He must feel really bad. And I think this means he's forgiven me. Even though we're just sitting in silence, I'll take it. This is the closest thing to normal human interaction I've had in two months. I'd sit in silence with the Minotaur just to have someone who doesn't cower when I enter the room.

            "Simon," he clears his throat. Then I realize. _Oh no._ He's here to give me bad news. I'm not going back to Watford. No more magic. No more Penny. A small voice inside me says: _No more Baz_. My fingers are buzzing and it's getting hard to hold the cone still. "You did well today."

            And? I wait, but he doesn't say anything. All that wind up for a compliment?

            "Ok. Thanks— thank you. Sir." I resist the urge to say "Is there anything else?"

            I finish my ice cream, but it's another ten minutes of silence before the Mage stands and says, "Let's get you back then."

            Just like that. My mouth is hanging open and I shake my head before I get up and follow him. It's a few blocks back to the home, and it starts to _pour_. We hear it before it's upon us. An out-of-nowhere summer rain. I pull out my wand and cast, **"Rain, Rain, Go Away"** on us both. It works, thank magic, and we stay dry. I wouldn't have done it, I haven't used magic on anyone since May and it could have been disastrous, but I wanted to prove to him that I _can_ learn some things. The Mage smiles a little, and squeezes my shoulder. It was worth the risk.

            "If there's anything else I can help with, you know, like today, I'd be happy to help, sir. I mean, I'd like to come along, if that's alright."

            "We'll see, Simon," he says. Then he gives a curt nod and leaves me standing at the gates in front of the one-story juvenile centre. I guess that was about as good as that could go. I _do_ sleep better that night.

            July turns to August, but the Mage doesn't visit again.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey so the songs in this chapter are below if you want to listen! Kanye first then the song Baz can't understand:
> 
>  
> 
> [Yeezy](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ac8jL8x5uU0&list=PL0p4IXFGBheOG8RFzHZri41SSaSWN-psL&index=121)
> 
>  
> 
> [Fem Fine Frokner](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LyeSIOFHwf8)
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Wooo for 2013/14 club music!
> 
> As always, thank you so much for reading!

BAZ

            So this is what a gay bar is like? The music is too loud for talking and it's darker than I expected. There’s more people than I would have thought, too. I can’t see the people for the crowd. My aunt Fiona dragged me out tonight and within five minutes ditched me and found the most attractive straight guy here. She's dancing with him somewhere in the dark to a Kanye song I vaguely recognize.

            Fiona got me the fake ID. I won't be 18 for another month. She tried to dress me, too, made me leave the top two buttons of my lilac shirt unbuttoned. I didn't budge on the trousers though: black slacks, _not_ jeans. I order an Old Fashioned and stand near the floor to ceiling windows. The glass is tinted so no one can look _in_. The bar overlooks the street, so at least I have a nice view to pass the time. I can even look into the bar across the street. It’s a straight bar so it’s better lit and there’s people playing pool. There’s football on a wall-mounted television over on their side. Just a recap of Manchester losing to the MK Dons earlier today. (Like I needed the reminder.)

            In the window's reflection I see there’s a boy leaning over the bar on our side, talking into the bartender's ear. For a moment I think it’s Simon, but I turn around and see he's too tall. And Snow wouldn't be _here_ anyway. When the boy turns, I see he's older than I thought. Maybe early twenties. And he looks nothing like Snow, except for the haircut. His nose is too thin and there's stubble over his jaw ending in a clean line before it comes to his neck. He's dressed too nice. He's _fit_. And he sees me staring. I don't look away.

            When he gets his drink, he says something to the bartender and a moment later he's got two shots in his left hand. He brings one to me.

            "I'm Jeremy," he says, and he says it as if he knows I've been waiting for him all night. (I haven’t. I only got here one drink ago.)

            "Baz," I say. "What is this?"

            “The cheapest shot they have," he says, smiling with one side of his mouth. He thinks he's charming. I suppose he must be, because I do the shot with him, and two more.

            I think maybe alcohol affects vampires differently, because now were dancing and the whole room is spinning for me and he seems just fine. I’m trying to figure out the words to this song, but then I realize it’s not in English. Or French or anything else I know. Jeremy keeps putting his hand under my shirt, and it’s warm. It feels good. To be touched. To be drunk.

            I don't know how long we've been dancing when he asks me if I want to get out of here.

            “D'you wanna go somewhere? So we can talk?" he shouts over the music. I nod and we leave. He says his flat is just a few streets over, but then doesn't say anything else the rest of the way. I’m having trouble walking and looking around at the same time, so I just keep my head down and follow him.

            We walk up three levels to his flat, and when he opens the door I see it's a studio. His bed is no more than ten feet from the door, his kitchen just beyond that. My stomach drops. _We’re already in his bedroom._ Jeremy takes off his trainers and sits on the bed.

            I’m still standing by the door. I feel so drunk. Not as bad as the pruno, but still fairly legless. I don't know what to say so I mumble stupidly, "Is this your place?"

            Jeremy laughs and stands back up. He walks slowly back over to me. His hand is on my waist and he's kissing me. He smells good, like liquor and Marlboros and pine. And he kisses good. And it feels good to be kissed. I feel like I've got one up on Snow. I feel like my lips are clean now. (Or at least clean of _him_.) I don't have to think about how he's the last person, the only person, I've kissed anymore.

            I notice I'm crying. Who the fuck am I, Simon Snow? I don’t cry just because someone’s kissed me. Jeremy's got one hand on the back of my neck and the other is undoing the button on my trousers. When he gets to the zipper, I pull his hand away. He stops kissing me and laughs.

            "Don't I deserve this?" he asks.

            "I don't want to," I whisper. It's too dark, I don't think he can see my face. But I can see his. He's grinning and all I can see is teeth.

            Jeremy puts his hands on the door on either side of my head and presses into me. I've nowhere to go. He keeps kissing me and it feels so nice. He’s a better kisser than Snow. He’s using his tongue more… dragging it along my upper lip. (He doesn’t taste like anything.)

            But then his hand is in my trousers. I push him away again and he says, "Come on."

            I shove him, hard. He ends up on his arse.

            "Fuck you," I say, opening the door.

            He shouts, "Fuck’s your problem, mate? I didn't drag you back here!"

            But I'm already back down the stairs, zipping myself up, embarrassed. I don't know how I find the way back. When I find the club again, I track down Fiona in the coat closet with someone, a different Normal than before.

            "Let's go," I say. She just takes one look at me and leaves. Doesn't even say goodbye to the bloke, or wait for me. She just books it for the Tube.

            When we get back to her flat, I lay on her couch while she makes Jasmine tea. I can smell it from here. The room isn’t spinning here as much as it was at the club, or at Jeremy's.

            "Don't bother," I yell. She comes around to see me on the couch. I don't know what it is— the alcohol, the kiss, her worried face that looks so much like my mother’s— that makes me crack right then, but I do.

            She sits down with me and I lay my head in her lap. "It's alright, Baz. It's alright."  She’s brushing my hair back behind my ears. "It's not a proper night out if someone doesn’t cry. I'm just usually the one causing it."

            I laugh. My tears are pooling on my nose so I wipe them away.

            “Is it a boy? Do you want to talk about it?”

            “Yes. And no.”

* * *

            In the morning, I wake up on the floor. Fiona's overtaken the couch and pushed me off. I sit up and try to ignore my pounding head. I should have fed before the night out. Fiona's cigarettes are on the kitchen table. I grab the pack and my wand and head down to the street. I light one surreptitiously with a flame in my hand and hold it carefully away. They're mentholated, and the taste makes my lip curl, but I'll take it.

            It's cool yet this morning. It smells like construction dust and the approaching autumn. I feel like rubbish. And like a twit. What did I think was going to happen, going home from a gay bar with a stranger? I guess I wasn't thinking. (Maybe I should have just gotten it over with. It’s not like I'm holding out for anyone.)

            Maybe that's the way to go. Fiona's got the right idea. Date Normals. Then you can't bring them home to meet mum and dad because you _can't bring them home._ They can be chavvy or dull or all look exactly like Simon Snow and it won't matter. I won't have to introduce them at the club. My father would never even have to know. And if they ever do anything I don't like, I'll just shove them down on their arses.

 _That's terrible, Baz, even to think it,_ a voice whispers in the back of my head, and I realize with dismay that it's _Snow_.

_Why do you always have to be such a villain?_

            Jesus Christ, when did that start being a thing? When did _he_ become the voice in my head? (As if he doesn't torment me enough.)

            I'm too hung over for this. I try to focus on how good the cigarette feels. On all the smells of London. On the fact that at least I didn't throw up last night on top of everything else. One of my short sleeves has come unrolled while I slept so I place the cigarette between my lips and focus on fixing it. I button my shirt the rest of the way up. I smooth back my hair. _That's better,_ I think, in my own voice this time.

            Today is a meeting of the Old Families. That's why I'm in London. I'm going to need to have my shit together, and I have absolutely _none_ of my shit together. I finish the cigarette and tell myself I'll feel better after a shower. And breakfast. And blood. I start with the blood.

* * *

            Aunt Fiona goes with me to the meeting. Dev is there, and Father has driven up in the Aston Martin. The Families always shill out for a nice evening; we've got the Courtroom in the Corinthia. There's hors d'oeuvres and cocktails, so I have to keep denying tray after tray of crostini and prosciutto and salmon. I _do_ take a martini and Father doesn’t say anything about it. I’m doing my duty and greeting various Grimms and Pitches, and other people who wish they were Grimms or Pitches. Everyone treats me with respect here. They all know my father (I can tell which ones fear him) and revered my mother. I play the prodigal son and by the time everyone's shaken each other's hands, I feel right where I'm meant to be. Let any one of them say I don't belong here.

            The overwhelming majority of the meeting has nothing to do with me. The provision that was so important in the spring has passed, something to do with magickal registration. Children won't be able to attend Watford until their parents are registered with the Coven. The whole thing was held up for months before it could be decided if this would affect the incoming first years or not. They didn't have the administrative staff to handle all new registrations before the start of term, the opponents said, and of course the longer they waited, the more impossible the situation became. I didn't see the point of any of it really. If a child wanted to go to Watford, their parents would have to fill out all kinds of forms with the school anyway. This just seemed like an additional step to accomplish nothing.

            Then there was an overlong discussion over whether or not the magickal clubs should change their requirements from three attestations to four for new members. After that I stopped listening. Crowley, there are more important things, really. And three attestations has always been enough to keep the rabble out in the past. You can fool one person that you’re the right sort, maybe two, but not three.

            Fiona nudges me a little while later and I realize they've moved onto talking about the Mage. I gather that he's expected to personally handle some goblin issue north of London in the autumn, if it doesn't resolve itself. Everyone's putting forth plans of what to do in his absence. Pass the second tier of registration laws, whatever that is. Launch inquiries in to Watford. Or into the Mage's men. Then someone says my name so I try to look determinedly interested.

            "Basilton, Dev," a white-haired woman three seats down from my father leans forward to catch our eyes. "You will probably be the first to know if the Mage steps away from his post. Can we count on you to keep the appropriate parties informed?"

            "Of course," I smile. Dev nods, his mouth serious. This is only his third meeting. He's older than me, but I've been coming for years. I begged my father since I was 11 or 12. I think Dev only started coming to look important. But there's a difference between looking important and being important, and all the old woman's questions from here on are directed to me alone.

            This is why I started coming here. I have a purpose. I have something to _do._ Instead of just being alone with my thoughts, pulled in every direction. Here, I know what to do: whatever they tell me to.

            After it’s over, Dev stops me from leaving. Blocks my way out of the ballroom with his arm.

            “I need a ride back home.” He’s not asking. “My brother drove me in and he’s got plans for tonight. I figured I could count on you.”

            Fiona is always in high spirits after these meetings. She ducks Dev’s arm and says she’ll find her own way home.

            “Or not.” She practically winks.

 _Fantastic_. Just Dev and I for an hour in my car. Can’t imagine what he’ll want to talk about.

            He doesn’t waste any time, “So am I going to have to keep an eye on you this year or not?”

            I don’t dignify him with an answer. I pretend I’m concentrating on traffic.

            “Well, then? Over your little crush? Want me to find you someone else?” He’s got this smug smile I want to slap right off his face.

            “I'm capable of doing that for myself, actually.” And I am. Finding someone last night was the easy part…

            “Good. I’m glad. Pitches never betray family. I knew you’d come around.”

            I make a derisive face but don’t look away from the road. “I wasn’t—“

            I don’t finish the sentence. Was it betraying the family to kiss Snow? Of course. Of course it was. And so was defending him when we fought the werewolf. And carrying him out of that forest and trying to kiss him again and… Ok, I’m Benedict sodding Arnold. But if Simon bloody Snow _is_ actually the Chosen One, he’s going to have to destroy the Insidious Humdrum at some point and it will be much harder for him to do that if he’s dead.

            None of the Old Families believe that, of course. Simon Snow isn't their messiah, just some pawn of the Mage. But they haven't seen him fight like I have. They didn't see him light up like a star being born just because he wanted to. They hadn't _felt_ his magic inside them. If they had, they wouldn't blame me for wanting to make sure he's around to protect the World of Mages.

            (Kissing him, on the other hand, is definitely off limits. That’s not _exactly_ keeping him alive. Which is fine. I never plan on doing it again.)

            But if Snow _could_ defeat the Humdrum, that would force everyone’s hand. There would be no greater threat for the Mage to lord over us. The Old Families would be free to focus on retaking power, instead of constantly reeling from our ancestral homes being ripped out beneath us when a new dead spot opens up. The Mage would have no more distractions from his “great vision.” He’d finally reveal his true intentions. The dark creatures who have been taking advantage of the chaos of the last decade or so could be taken by the neck, dealt with once and for all. Everything would be brought to a head.

_Why the hell haven’t I thought of this before?_

            “Baz, you want to watch your speed?” Dev asks.

            I ignore him and grip the leather steering wheel tighter. This could work, Snow’s never faced the Humdrum with me on his side. I could do what Dr Hightower wanted. I told her I would. I told her I’d help him learn to control his magic. I could…

            I think back to the night of the full moon. He grabbed my arms and just.. _pushed._ He gave me his magic. It felt… It felt _infinite._ If he can do that with anyone, he’s infinitely more dangerous, and infinitely more in danger, than anyone realizes. If _I_ could use his power…

_Really? Your mind goes to that immediately? Typical._

            It’s Snow’s voice again. This is why he’ll never trust me, because he shouldn’t. He has all that power— I _know_ how much, I _felt_ it— and he doesn’t use it. He could have literally anything he wanted. He could move the oceans around just because he’s bored. _And he air dries his hair._ I get one taste of it, no more than a second, and I can’t handle it. I want more. (Just one more thing to deny myself.)

            But I _can_ help him control it. It’s worked twice before. Then he could do it. He’d be unstoppable. And so bloody _good_. Not even the Mage could keep him under his thumb. If he could control his magic, he’d finally be everything everyone says about him.

_“And one will come to end us,_

_And one will bring his fall_

_Let the greatest power of powers reign,_

_May it save us all.”_

            Crowley, is this why the Crucible brought us together? Was I always meant to help him? And when the Old Families find out what I’ve done, what will become of me then? They probably won’t execute me, if my actions actually do help bring about the end of the greatest threat to magic. Exile, maybe.

            “You’re plotting, aren’t you? You’ve got that face on again.” Dev. I forgot about Dev.

            “What? No.” I have to give him something to keep him distracted. I have to give him what he wants. “Actually, yes. And you’re going to have to help this time.”

            Dev gives me a grin and raises his eyebrows, “Are you back, then?”

            “You have no idea.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PSA: You never owe anyone anything physical, even if you go home with them from a club! That's Baz's POV, not the author's voice, just to be clear. You deserve to be respected and to make your own choices about who you smash. <3!! you're the best!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm 14,000 words ahead in writing and so excited with what's happening I literally can't stop myself from updating.
> 
> Love your comments, and thank you for the kudos!!

SIMON

            I wake up way too early. I can’t sign myself out of care until the office opens at 8 am. The bus won’t come until 9, and the train leaves at noon. But here I am. Vibrating. Literally.

            I was dreaming about the night of the full moon. The night I killed the doctor. I’ve dreamed that part so many times I could draw it from memory. But there was something I’d forgotten. Just before, I’d grabbed Baz and gave him some of my magic. I told him to make a barrier, to save himself. How could I forget that?

            I woke, as always, just before I was about to go off. I can smell smoke. I should get out of here, but it’s the middle of the night. If I get caught sneaking out, they might hold me here, keep me from going back to Watford today. They _can’t_ do that. I’m going back today. Especially since I’ve realized Baz knows other people can use my power. I keep shutting my eyes tight, repeating to myself that if Baz hasn’t used that fact against me yet, he probably isn’t going to. _Probably_.

            I’ll just have to ask him tonight.

 _Tonight_. I’ll see him tonight.

            My cheeks are itching. I need to calm down. I can’t make it to Watford like this. I try thinking of scones and the sound of rain and the smell of sage, cedar, lavender… It’s not working. How does Baz do it? 

            I sit up. I try to remember what exactly he said the last time I was about to go off in our room. But he just told me to do the five senses meditation thing. What's he doing that I'm not doing? I try to remember. His voice. His pissed off, impatient look. His knee almost touching me. He didn't have to help me...

            If he _could_ though, how come he never did before? He had plenty of chances.

_Because you're enemies, you twat._

            Yeah, but he said he wanted me. For a long time.

             _Maybe he was lying._

            He wasn't, though. I trust him.

_Yeah, but, why? That seems really stupid of you._

            But I do trust him. Not like I trust Penny, or Ebb, but only slightly less than I trust the Mage. And maybe I only trust him because I want to, because I have _feelings_ for him or whatever. But, he fought beside me in the woods. He slept beside me. He kissed me back. Why do any of those things if it didn’t mean something?

_If it meant something, then why did he leave?_

            I cover my face with my hands and feel that my cheeks have gone cool again. _Merlin_. How does he do that? How does he distract me from freaking out even when he’s not here? I flop back onto my scratchy sheets. I guess I'll have to ask him that, too.

 

PENELOPE

            By the time I get to Watford, Agatha is already in my room.

            And Trixie.

            And Keris.

            It's after tea; Pacey held us up because he had absolutely nothing packed before this morning. I'm frustrated because I wanted to talk to Simon _before_ I saw Agatha. Ask him if he still wants me to tell her. (If there still is anything to tell.)

            I unpack as quickly as I can, and as it turns out, Agatha wasn't even really here to see me. She borrowed some clothes off Keris this summer and had to return them.

            "Maybe you could take those back to _your_ room, Keris." I suggest, but no one hears me. This is going to be a long year. I wonder if Agatha would let me trade rooms. (I wonder if the Crucible will let me.)

            I bound down the stairs of the Cloisters as soon as I finish unpacking. If I know Simon, he'll be to dinner early and stay late. I mentally prepare myself to see his sunken cheeks and baggy clothes. Only, when I get down to the front door, Ani is waiting there.

            Ani Lang.

_Crap._

            She so small, only a fourth year. Her black hair is cropped in a bob and her bangs have grown into her eyes. She's wearing a man's sweater over jeans with the sleeves rolled up so her hands can poke out. She looks so... breakable.

            I have to tell her. I have no idea what to say though. _"I'm sorry my friend killed your dad,"_ probably isn't right.

            But then she speaks first.

            "Hi. Penny, right?"

            "Yeah. Hiya!"

            Morgana, I never say _"Hiya!"_

"I need to talk to you about something. I think you know what. Can you come to my room?"

            Her room is on the first floor, facing west, and I can see people streaming across the grass to dinner from her windows. Her roommate isn't here yet and she doesn't have anything up on the walls, so it looks like no one lives here at all.

            "I know this is probably going to sound crazy, but I think my dad wants me to talk to you." She's standing in front of the window with her arms crossed. Not like she's angry, or cold, but like she's hugging herself.

            "Ani, I knew your dad. I saw him at the end of last term. Ani," Why do I keep saying her name? "I have to tell you something."

            "I know my dad's dead.” Her voice is high and taught like a violin string, but she's determined. "I went to his cave the last day of term, to say goodbye before summer break... He wasn't there. He wouldn't have just left without saying goodbye. All his concealment spells were gone, but his research was just lying there..."

            "Ani, I'm so sorry. I should have said something before we left for summer. I didn't see it happen, but you're right." I know it's not enough, but it's all I can think to say. "I'm really sorry."

            "It's not your fault." She raises one hand quickly to wipe her eye and her frown deepens. She's not going to let herself cry in front of me. "That's not what I asked you here for. I need your help."

            Ani reaches a small hand under her mattress and pulls out what is unmistakably one of her father's journals. _She went to his cave..._ She knows about Simon and the Humdrum!

            I stand quickly. "I can't help you get revenge. And I can't help you expose Simon. We don't even know if what your dad thought was true."

            She looks at me like I'm nuts. "That's not what I want. _I'm_ not a killer. I thought you of all people would know. We can't win at their game! The Pitches, the Humdrum, the Mage… My father tried to play, and it cost him everything. They will _always_ win."

            Ani's pacing the floor now, holding her father's book behind her back with both hands. "The only thing we can do is try to help as many people as we can. We're not the generals. We don't call the shots. You and me," she uses the journal to point at me, "we're the field medics. We clean up the mess. We have to fix people."

            She's not wrong. "So... how _can_ I help?"

            She opens the journal to a well-read page. The binding is worn so that it falls open right to it. There's a drawing, her father must have done it. I recognize it; it's the harness. Ani flips the pages and it's all there: schematics, notes, and the engravings on the straps drawn out in runes and other languages I don't know. He wrote it all down. He left instructions. He _did_ mean to end lycanthropy.

            I don't understand. "Do you want me to help you translate it?"

            "No. We're going to make one."

 

SIMON

            Once I get to Watford around three, I don't leave my room. If Baz gets back, this is the first place he'll come. If Penny gets back, likewise, probably. I shower and change into my new uniform, just to see how it fits. It feels good to have it on again. Everything feels good right now.

            By dinnertime, it's clear no one's coming for me here. I find Penny already in the dining hall (she's gone with deep purple hair this year, the colour of the night sky), and Agatha is standing next to our table, talking to Dev. I'd forgotten about that. My stomach churns noisily, only half out of hunger.

            I take the seat across from Penny, open my eyes wide and tilt my head towards Agatha's back as if to say, _"Does she know yet?"_

            Penny raises one side of her mouth and shakes her head. I smack my forehead. _"Pen!"_ I mouth, and hold my index finger up between us. _"You had one job!"_

 _"I know!"_ she mouths back exaggeratedly. _"I'm sorry!"_ She holds her hands out and lifts them up and down, begging for my forgiveness. Rhys has noticed our antics and starts laughing.

            "What in Maugris's name is wrong with you two? Just say hello like normal people."

            I look back at Penny and can't help but grin. She wrinkles her nose and fights an awkward smile. She missed me, too.

            "Good to be back, Pen."

            "Find anything out this summer, Simon?"

            I shake my head. "Just helped out some leprechauns. Stayed out of trouble. You?"

            She sighs and tilts her head back. "Found the fairies, decided to recreate Dr Lang's were-harness-thing. Just _relaxed_ , really."

            I grab three rolls with one hand and dump them on my plate. "I was being serious."

            "Me too! Well, about the second thing." She leans forward and adds in a whisper, "Ani was the one who cleared out her dad's cave. She's going to try to recreate his work."

            "So she knows...?" I stop buttering my rolls and try to find her in the hall. I don't know what I'm hoping to see. If she's a wreck I'll feel like crap. If she looks alright, I'll still feel like crap. I killed her dad.

            "She knows he's gone, Simon. _Really_ gone. I don't think she wants to know how. At least, she didn't ask."

            "Did she say anything about his notes? About why he wanted me to go off?"

            Penelope looks down at her plate and shakes her head. "I didn't get a chance to ask." She furrows her brow. "She said I was mentioned in his notes, though. Not by name— he called me the green-haired girl, but that was easy enough for Ani to figure out. Said he talked about me potentially being an ally, since he knew I was close to you. Said he had to 'get through to me,' whatever that means."

            "So that's why she wants you to help? Because he trusted you?"

            "That and my dazzling intellect." She whips her glasses off her face dramatically.

            "You're in a good mood," I say through a mouthful of the butter sandwich I made with the roll.

            She smiles and a dimple appears in her right cheek. "Maybe."

            Agatha finally removes her face from Dev's and sits down with us. I'm relieved to see Dev walk to his own table. Niall is here, but Baz isn't. I try not to keep checking, but eventually Penny has to kick me to remind me not to be so obvious. I blush.

            She looks up to the ceiling and rolls her eyes, but when she looks back down at me again, her dimple is back. If I've got Penelope's blessing, what more do I need?


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> what we've all been waiting for (ok what i've been waiting for):
> 
> the reunion

SIMON

            After dinner, it's all I can do not to sprint back to Mummer's House. (And hell, maybe I do sprint, a little.) Penny is disappointed, but I think she understands. I've got to see him. Before... I don't know, before I lose my nerve.

            It's past nine when I hear him come up the stairs. I'd been faffing about with the Sword of Mages and flick my wrist to stow it quickly before he comes in. He stops at the top of the stairs and I wonder for a second why he doesn't just enter. Then I hear him casting the spell to reintroduce himself to the room. I wonder if he can smell the blood from when I did it earlier. _I should have used the spell._

            My heart is slamming against my ribs while I wait for him to finish casting. My throat is suddenly dry and I can't stop licking my lips.

            When he finally unlocks the door, I swallow hard. It's good to see him, and he looks _good_. His hair's getting long, almost to his shoulders. He's wearing another grey v-neck like the day he helped keep me from going off. I can feel a tightness go out of my chest that I hadn't really realized was there.

            He's looking at me like he didn't expect me to be here, but really it should be the other way around. Baz usually doesn't come back until the night before the start of term. _He's come back early..._

 

BAZ

            Snow looks terrible. I want to look away, I don't want to think about what happened to him this summer to make him look so... _burnt._ He looks like a house after a fire, all thin limbs like broken support beams and sunken pits under his eyes like he hasn't slept since...

_Since he slept in my arms._

            As if he senses what I'm thinking, we're both struck with the awkwardness of the situation and turn away. He rubs the back of his neck with his hand and even that small action is endearing. I push my trunk to the side and throw my leather shoulder bag on the bed. I had better not prolong this.

            If I don't say it now, I might talk myself out of it.

            "I'm going to help you fight the Humdrum," I say. I tilt my chin up so I'm looking down at him even more so than usual.

            Snow looks confused. As he should. That's not exactly a greeting.

            "Ok. Hello. What's that?" He's tilting his head to the side like a particularly stupid dog confused by a new sound.

            "The Old Families can't fight the Mage and the Humdrum at the same time. And if we combine our efforts, your... magic, Bunce's brain, and my lack of moral centre, I think we stand a chance."

            "You forgot Agatha," is all he says.

            "What?"

            "Agatha. You forgot Agatha," he insists.

            "Ok." I throw my arms out, exasperated already, even though so far, he's reacting fairly positively. "What does she bring to the Magelings?"

            "Well— is that what you call us?" Snow scrunches his face in disgust. "Don't call us that."

            "Snow! What does Wellbelove do?"

            "I ... Well—." He's wracking his brain, I can tell. "She's generally there for... moral support."

            "Great. She can make us matching T-shirts. Anyway, are you in?"

            "What do you get out of it?" Snow crosses his arms thoughtfully.

            My eyes flick down to his chest and I wonder if he's still wearing the cross. (It doesn't matter.)

            "I want you to let me help you learn to control your magic. It's worked before, and then I won't have to risk you blowing me up the next time you get a bad grade."

            I can see I've hurt Snow’s feelings. It's probably for the best. His shoulders droop a little and he says, "Ok... but that still sounds like helping _me_ mostly. Why? What even made you think of that?"

            "I need something from you." When I say it, Snow raises his eyebrows and tilts his chin down like he can't believe what I'm saying. "I need you to pretend to hate me again. Dev... picked up on some things last year. He's going to tell the Old Families that I'm no longer suitable as a weapon against you—"

            He gives a pained smile and tilts his head toward me. "Again, that's still mostly benefiting me. I'd rather have them think _you're_ fighting me than Dev get elected my new nemes—"

            "—and he's going to tell my father I'm gay." My father knows I'm queer, or at least suspects, but I’m not about to say, _“He'll tell dear old pop that I've been snogging, you, Simon darling.”_

            "Oh." Snow looks away. I don't think this conversation is going where he expected. "Why don't you just fight me again? Make it real? I can think of a hundred things you could do right now to get me to hate you for real. Easier things than taking on the Humdrum."

            I exhale in annoyance. "I hadn't thought of that. You're right, scratch that. I'll just knock your teeth in and be done with it. Or better yet, why don't you come over here and I'll throw you down the stairs again?"

            Snow answers quietly, flatly, "Anathema."

            I can't, of course. I can't go back to fighting him. No matter how much easier it would be. I want to say this. I want to say, "You saved my life, you dolt. _And_ there's that other thing. The hopelessly-still-in-love-with-you-despite-the-fact-that-you'll-never-love-me-back thing."

            So instead, I tell him a different truth. I’ve been saving it because I think he’ll buy it. Because if I say it last, he’ll think it’s the real reason I’ve been avoiding all along. "The Humdrum killed my mother. It… it’s the reason I am the way I am. If anyone deserves the chance to take it down, it's me. But I'll settle for helping you do it.

            "And... for whatever idiotic reason, you saved my life. I think the Families are working something over for the long haul. I won't help them this go around, and that will make us even. After that... no guarantees. You're still the Mage's Heir."

            I know he doesn't like being called that. Which is exactly why I say it.

            "So... just to sum up... you're going to help me control my magic, help me fight the Humdrum, and _not_ help the Old Families kill me, _just this one time_ , and all I have to do is keep pretending to hate you. You're sure? Anything else? I could… teach you to sword fight?" He's still got his arms crossed and eyebrows raised, but he's leaning toward me now, and I can see a smile playing at the corner of his mouth.

            I turn away and start unpacking, just to have something to do with my hands. "I already know how. I fence at the club."

 

SIMON

            Merlin, Morgan, and Methuselah, is there anything he isn't good at? This is not at all how I wanted it to go. He hasn't mentioned the fact that the last time I saw him it was from about two inches away. In his arms. I keep hoping he'll just stop talking altogether and wrap me up in them again. But he's not even looking at me now. I can't read him at all...

            "Ok, fine. You can fence. I guess the only thing I can do for you is to keep your secret then."

            He snaps his gaze back to me. He looks horrified. "My secret?"

            I lower my eyebrows and roll my eyes. "That you're a vampire..."

            He relaxes.

            "...and a werewolf."

            Baz looks at me as if I've completely lost the plot. "A were— what the fuck? Seriously? What are you, obsessed with cryptids?"

 _Just one._ "Come on, not this again. I _saw_ you get mauled."

            He goes back to neatly hanging all his shirts in his wardrobe and spelling them wrinkle-free before answering. "I'm _not_ a werewolf, Snow. I'm not fucking with you, I'm just not. I don't know why. I'm immune, I guess."

            Oh. Well. That's one less thing to worry about. I plop down on my bed. He takes his bag into the bathroom.

            "Why did you... Baz, what made you go out in the woods that night? You were there before I was."

            He comes back out of the bathroom where he's been methodically putting all his things away and leans against the doorway, crossing his arms. He's sizing me up. I have no idea what he's thinking, he's doing the face again: the unflappably-cool face.

            He answers with a question."Why did you save my life?"

            I don't know what to say. What the hell else was I supposed to do? So I tell him what I’ve been trying to convince myself all summer.

            "It was the right thing to do," I say, casually. As if it's obvious. I bite the inside of my cheek waiting for his reply.

            Baz takes a deep breath and says, "That's it, isn't it? It was the right thing to do."

            I can't hide the disappointment on my face.

            "It wasn't because of you," he says. "In fact, the first time I went out, it was in spite of you."

            I'm still trying to make heads or tails of that when he goes back into the bathroom and I hear his voice echo back, almost as an afterthought, "And the family business is werewolf assassination so..."

            I jump up and stand in the doorway to the bathroom. I catch my face in the mirror and try to wipe the dumb look off it. “What? Excuse me, what?”

            Baz looks back at me in the mirror and raises an eyebrow. I think he’s enjoying this. “I’m a werewolf hunter. It’s in my blood. I can smell them coming… unfortunately,” he adds with a sneer.

            So… he _wasn’t_ out there for me. “Are you fucking with me, Pitch?”

            “Absolutely not, ask Dev. Or, there’s a full moon next Tuesday. I can show you.”

            This is not going at all how I’d thought, and I’ve thought about it a lot. He’s insulted me, threatened me, twice, and I still can’t tell if he’s taking the piss about the werewolf thing. But he’s also promised not to fight me (for now), to help me with the Humdrum _and_ my magic, he’s even willing to work with Agatha and Penny (although the thought of him and Agatha hanging out still turns my gut). I’ve gotten everything I was hoping for all summer without even having to ask. Everything except…

            Thinking about kissing him makes my cheeks go hot. I think I’m just blushing again but then Baz turns to look at me with his eyebrows all furrowed.

            “What?” I snap.

            “What’s wrong? I felt it. Your magic.” My mouth just falls open. I can’t think of a lie quick enough. I’m about to tell him the truth but he says: “It’s fine. I don’t need your help. I’ll keep hunting them alone.”

            He’s done in the bathroom so he pushes past me and it’s only now that I realize that he's doing all his unpacking like a Normal. How very… un-Baz. He heads for the door.

            I blurt out, “Where are you going?”

            “I’m _thirsty_ , Snow.” He curls his lip and adds, “Just because we’re allies now doesn’t mean you get to keep tabs on me.”

            Allies? _Allies?_

            “Yeah. Right.” It’s all I can think to say as he shuts the door on me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TL;DR this chapter:
> 
> Baz: we need to team up to face the greatest threat the World of Mages has ever known! Are you with me?
> 
> Simon: ok, but when can we do the kissing?


	6. Chapter 6

SIMON

            I can’t sleep until Baz gets back from hunting. When I finally do, I don’t wake until the noise of his shower wakes me. I haven’t slept that well all summer, I must have been exhausted. I sniff the air and all I can smell is cedar and bergamot, no smoke. If I had any nightmares, I don’t remember them.

            It’s Tuesday, but classes don’t start until tomorrow. I pull on a Watford Lacrosse shirt and jeans and head out to find Penny. And some scones. The first scones of the year always taste like heaven.

            Penny and I beat Agatha down to breakfast, so I drag Pen out across the Great Lawn to the yew trees to talk. I fill her in on everything that happened last night… and everything that didn’t happen.

            “So… what’s his problem? He doesn’t like you anymore?” Penny asks.

            All I can do is pace and shake my head. 

            “Was he just messing with you, when he said he liked you?” she asks.

            “No. I don’t know!” Penny may not trust Baz, but I still do. Even if he says he wasn’t fighting the werewolf _for_ me, just _with_ me. “You _saw_ him try to kiss me right?”

            Penny wrinkles her nose at the memory and nods. “Yes. I’m not going to forget that anytime soon. He like, _held_ you, Simon. I _saw_ it. It was like Trixie and Keris all over again.”

            I shake out my curls with both hands. “Is he mad I didn’t contact him all summer? He knows I can’t, right?”

            Penny shrugs. “How would he know that, though? I mean, it’s been three months, anything could have happened. He could have met someone else.”

            I shoot her a horrified look and she throws her hands up defensively. “I don’t know, Simon! You can’t ask _me_ , you have to ask Baz!”

            I shake my head again. “I dunno, Pen. He seemed so distant last night. He called us ‘ _allies_.’” I throw air quotes around it to emphasize the weirdness.

            She chews her lip. “That’s good, though, right? I mean, you were sworn enemies before. Did you ask him about sharing your magic with him? Did he tell anyone?”

 _Shit_. “I forgot.”

            “But he hasn’t used it against you, that’s a good sign. Maybe he just needs time. Or maybe…”

            “What, Penny? What? I have no idea what to do here.”

            “Maybe… he’s not the boyfriend type? He’s never dated anyone, Simon. Maybe he’s not interested in that sort of thing.”

            But I’m remembering something. “No, we talked about that. I asked! I asked him to be my secret boyfriend and he said ok.”

            Penny is laughing now, “You asked him to be your secret boyfriend? When?”

            “Shut up. It was sweet. Before the wand thing happened.” But she can’t stop laughing. She’s clutching her sides and her eyes are shut tight. I stop pacing and look directly at her, eyebrows raised, fists pressed into my hips. “Have you had enough?”

            Pen pulls herself together and when she finally wipes her eyes and sees the look on my face her laughter turns to pity. “I’m _sorry_. I keep forgetting you actually like him.”

            “So what do I do?”

            “I don’t know! I’m no good at this stuff. Maybe we should ask Agatha, the Make Out Queen. Or, hey! Let’s ask Keris! She’s good at this sort of thing. She thought Baz was gay since third year. She’s always giving advice to the younger girls.”

            “Penny, I’m not a girl,” I huff.

            “Yeah, but Baz _is_ a guy. How different can it be really?”

            “I can’t ask Keris, Pen. No one’s supposed to know. Everyone’s supposed to think we’re fighting.”

            “Maybe Baz is a method actor,” Penny quips, then sees my unamused scowl. “Fine, fine! I’m done. I guess it’s a good thing I didn’t tell Agatha then.”

            I sigh. I suppose she’s right. I sit against the tree beside Penny and put my head in my hands.

            “It’ll be ok, Simon. Maybe just... give him some space for now. That way, if he’s over it, you can start to get over it, too. And if he’s not over it, he’ll come to you and then you'll know.”

            That sounds like total shit, to be honest, but it's the only plan I have.

 

AGATHA

            You think I would get used to being ignored. Penny and Simon have given me more than enough practice being the third wheel, I don’t mind it at all when Keris and Trixie do it now. But it’s a little bit different when it’s your not-boyfriend that’s ignoring you.

            I shouldn’t be surprised. I always go to the welcome-back picnic with Simon and Penny, and Dev, Niall, and Baz (Simon says he got back last night after dinner) are here together like every other year. But aren’t things _different_? Penny says we’re working with Baz now. I guess I missed a lot when I checked out of that part of Simon’s life. The fighting evil part.

            I’m not sure I believe her. I mean, every time I check to see if Dev is looking over at our blanket, I catch Baz scowling at Simon as usual. (I _don’t_ see Dev looking at me. Or, if he is looking, we keep missing each other.) And Simon is clearly miffed when he sees Baz doing it. I keep thinking they’re going to fight right here and ruin the picnic for everyone, but they don’t.

            Baz does make a big show out of making fireworks. He always used to do this, big displays of magic at the beginning of the year, just to show off. Simon doesn't use his magic at all during the summer, and it shows in his spellwork. Baz's magic is beautiful, especially his fire. He's making chrysanthemum blooms in gold and blue, and when they reach their peak they pop, almost like a bubble, and rain purple and gold sparks. Simon can't stop watching him, and _there._ _That_ is something different. He doesn't look pissed off, like I expect. He looks like the rest of us, properly awed.

            I look back at Baz and he's watching Simon again, too. Niall leans forward and says something and then Baz is laughing, throwing his head back. Dev joins in and my stomach lurches a little.

            I frown and look down at my skirt. We hung out more than a few times this summer. And while Simon's right, Dev can be cruel when other people are around (for reference, see this exact moment where he doesn't even acknowledge that I exist), when it's just us... He even came to see one of my events this summer. Brought me flowers and brushed my horse down with me after. He didn't have to— he's not my boyfriend— but he did it anyway.

            And he called me all the time. Almost every night. We'd stay up so late talking, mostly him. I think he'd _still_ call, or at least text, if we had mobiles at Watford. It was nice to just talk. At school, his hands are always all over me. On the phone, he was really listening. I started to think he actually liked me. He even had a nickname for me. I think _I_ started to actually like him...

            I wish this summer hadn't ended. I wish I were a Normal so I could say things like that. Magickal kids can't wait to go back to school in the autumn. I know Penny and Simon practically run here come September. But I like the warm weather and I like not having to use magic all the time, even when I don't feel like it. I like my Normal friends. I miss them already, especially Minty. I'm always afraid she's going to forget about me. She hasn't yet, but I still worry I'll come back one summer and she'll have all new friends. Next year I won't have to come back to Watford if I don't want, but what else am I going to do?

            "You alright?" Penny asks, nudging me with her elbow.

            I try a smile, "Yeah. Summer just went by so fast is all."

            "Not for Simon," she whispers back. I know what she means. He looks run ragged. I don't know what happened this summer, and I know he wouldn't want to talk about it if I asked, but he looks worse than he ever has before. I won't say anything, though. Maybe I'll just give him some moisturizer for his face. A late birthday present.

            Someone starts singing the school song, and one by one everyone around us joins in. I don't. I don't like the sound of my own voice. Dev has a terrible voice, too. He sang to me on the phone over the summer, just to make me laugh. It was three in the morning, and we were both more than a little silly from lack of sleep. My parents heard me and made me hand over my mobile for a week.

            I tell myself not to, but I look anyway. He's singing now, too.

 

BAZ

            "Are you mad at me because I didn't call this summer? Because I can't, actually."

            Snow and I are lying in bed (our _own_ beds). I thought he was asleep, so his question startles me a little.

            "I'm not mad at you, Snow. And why would I want you to call me?"

            He sighs and rolls away to face the window. My curiosity gets the better of me.

            "Why can't you call?" I ask.

            He rolls back onto his back. Can't get comfortable. _Join the club._

            "I just can't. Even if I could, I'd have to call from the care home. It'd be impossible to have a private conversation with twenty other people milling about or whatever. But the Mage says I shouldn't. I'd be easier to find."

 _Do you do everything the Mage says?_ I think.

            "Who's looking for you?" I ask the dark shape on Snow's side of the room. He's drawn the curtains tight. I don't think he likes the moonlight streaming across his bed when he's trying to sleep anymore. "Besides the Humdrum."

            "Bonety hunters, mostly. Manticorps, trolls... The Humdrum doesn't attack me outside of Watford."

 _What? Really?_ That seems like a pretty important detail for him to mention like it's nothing. I make a mental note to look into that later. "Why don't you just leave care? You're sixteen, right?"

            "Seventeen," he corrects me. "I dunno. I just... never had a reason to leave. Nowhere to go. I didn't even think about it until this summer."

            I run my tongue over my incisor, trying to distract myself with its keen edge. Trying to keep myself from asking the next question. It doesn't work. "What changed?"

            Snow shuffles under his sheets again. It's past midnight. Classes start tomorrow. I expected him to be asleep when I got back from hunting. _Maybe he was waiting for me._

            "Snow—?" I whisper. He's so quiet, I think he's finally drifting off.

            "Nothing," he answers. "Nothing changed."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> still 15,000 words ahead so there will be a new chapter tomorrow too!
> 
> your comments never fail to make me lol i love our fandom!
> 
> Also, two notes:  
> 1\. I got my signed copy of Carry On this week and omg the new paperback is so beautiful i audibly gasped. But that means I have the physical book for the first time (audiobook all the way baybee!!) and now I realize I've been doing some things wrong with formatting the spells. I will eventually go back and fix them all but for now ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ 
> 
> 2\. We had a CRISIS in the fic last night. I realized why the story was feeling so expositiony and boring and I think I've solved it??? so i hope going forward we're going to be solid but I apologize it took us so long to get here.... and will take a little longer since I haven't put everything that's written yet. anyway thank you for reading all of this, you're the best!!!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So 99% of the time I write to music and this is the song I couldn't stop listening to while writing this chapter and another one that's coming up, so here you go:
> 
>  
> 
> [ What Kind of Man - Florence + the Machine](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rykH2bUlz_4)

BAZ

            In the morning, I find Snow’s cross stashed away in my desk drawer. I’d completely forgotten about it. That explains the stinging in the back of my throat I’ve felt in our room ever since I got back. I carry it gingerly by the clasp, trying not to burn myself, over to his side of the room and leave it out for him. When I get out of the shower, he’s sitting up in bed with the cross in his hand, the chain dangling. He’s staring at it like he has no idea what it’s for.

            “You should put it back on,” I suggest.

            “Why? Are you going to bite me?”

            I ignore the question. “You’ve worn it every day for years. No one’s going to believe we’re fighting if you’re not wearing it.”

            He stares at me for a long time. He looks like he’s about to work himself into a bluster. I’m prepared for him to stammer his way through one argument or another, but he just says, “Fine.”

            I realize I’m a little disappointed. (Because I’m pathetic.) He avoids my eyes and puts the gold chain around his neck again. I bite my tongue, literally, and go to class.

 

PENELOPE

            I know Simon and Baz are just pretending to hate each other again, but they're _really_ good at it. Simon's got his cross back on and every time he accidentally catches sight of Baz (like when he walked in to Political Science uncharacteristically late), Simon's eyes go icy and he looks instantly away. I don't know what happened in their other classes together, but it can't have been anything good. Then Baz _laughed_ at Simon when he made a mistake in Magic Words. It was _cruel_. It was trademark Baz. Simon's cheeks went _red_ and I felt so sorry for him.

            Then, when Mr Minos tries to sort us alphabetically as always and puts Pitch and Snow at a table together, Baz throws a right fit.

            " _Sir_ ," he says it with such derision, "you can't expect me to sit next to this... this _liability_ for another year!"

            The Minotaur just blinks his big cow eyes and sighs, "Do what you want, Master Pitch. The world is, as they say, your lobster."

            Baz picks up his bag and moves to an empty desk at the back of the classroom. I can't believe he's willing to look this bad in front of the teachers just to convince Dev. I have to lean around Rhys to see Simon, but I don't need to. I can _feel_ him. There's little electric pops in the magickal atmosphere every so often, getting closer together as class goes on, like popcorn popping. Baz looks smugger by the minute, clearly enjoying getting under Simon's skin. I know everyone else must be able to feel Simon's magic, too. It's so awkward, _I_ want to leave. I hope Dev's enjoying this.

            Class ends and Simon bolts from the classroom like a green and gold blur. I try to grab my things and rush after him, but Ani is waiting out on the lawn. (How does she keep doing that?)

            She's still wearing her baggy sweater, despite the over-warm weather. She's standing in the shade of the Weeping Tower with her arms crossed and she doesn't say anything or even look at me, but I know she's waiting for me.

            "Hello, Ani. What's up?" I ask, impatient.

            "You're out of class, I thought we'd get started." she says matter-of-factly.

            "What— _now_? It's the first day of classes!"

            "Right. So you shouldn't have any homework." Ani shrugs and shakes her head, her black bob swishing in annoyance.

            "Ok, but I can't right now. Simon needs me at the moment."

            "Fine. But we should set a schedule now. Do you think five days a week is enough?"

            " _Five days_ — I have a life, Ani!" I insist, though I'm not sure I do, strictly speaking.

            She looks up at me fiercely. "So did the werewolves, before they were Turned."

            Just then, Baz walks out of the doorway I've just come through and hisses under his breath, "Go on, Bunce. I've got this one."

 _What in Morgana's name?_ My eyes are boring into his back. He's sauntering slowly back to Mummer's House with one hand in his pocket and his green jacket slung over his shoulder like a GQ model. I turn back to Ani and shrug resignedly.

            "I guess I'm free now."

 

SIMON

            It's too hot up in our room, I can't think. Can't clear my head. Can't stop reliving every humiliating second of today. How could I ever think he would be different? He always makes me feel like such a child. I tear off my tie and throw it on the floor, my hand spraying sparks. I'm missing the first tea for this.

            I open the window and lean out, but there's not even a hint of breeze, just the bitter wet smell of the moat in the sun. I start unbuttoning my shirt. The only thing for it is to stand in the shower until I cool off.

            Except Baz has just walked in. I bang my head on the window trying to come back in.

            "Fuck! _Merlin_!"

            Baz is laughing... _smiling_... But not in his usual, _sadistic_ way. "You, ok, Snow?"

            He hangs his jacket up nicely and lays his leather satchel on his desk like nothing at all happened today.

            "You can calm down now," he says without looking at me. "Everyone bought it, and you're making the room a furnace."

            I rake my hand through my sweaty hair. _What the fuck?_ "You were joking? I mean, none of that was _real_?"

            Baz raises a quizzical eyebrow at me, but when he sees I'm serious, he stops smiling. He walks over to my side of the room and instinctively reaches out his hand before snatching it back. He brushes his hair back with it instead.

            "I thought... You didn't know? Snow, we agreed to this."

            My cheeks are burning with shame. I'm definitely _not_ calming down. I shut my eyes to try to keep my edges from blurring, my skin from prickling.

            "Snow," Baz starts in a low voice. He's so close, only a foot or so away. A white shock of magic runs up my spine. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have overdone it. I just wanted to give them a show they wouldn't forget. I thought you were right there with me..."

            He doesn't touch me, just sits on my bed. I know he wants me to sit, too, so I do. I won't look at him. Whatever he says, he was still a twat today. I'm still angry.

            "Did Dr Hightower ever do the ocean one with you? Where you're just eyes floating in the waves?"

            I nod my head. I'm focused on the blue sky outside the window. Not a breeze, not a cloud...

            "Did it ever work?"

            I huff. "No. I've never been to the ocean."

            "Really?" He sounds surprised, but not mocking. I realize my shirt’s still unbuttoned (and it was too hot today for an undershirt), but I don't want to draw attention to it by doing it up again. I'm not looking at him, so I don't know whether he's even noticed. (Though I can tell from his voice he's facing me.) "I'll describe it, shall I?"

            When I don't respond he says, "Close your eyes."

            I hesitate, but I know I'm going to give in, so I might as well get it over with. I do, and the bright square of window is burned on the inside of my eyelids.

            "Do you know what waves sound like? From movies?"

            I toss my head. "Yeah, I know what waves sound like." I don't think he needs to go on, really. I'm already feeling my magic dissipate. As soon as he said he was sorry, sat on my bed, started whispering to me... my mind went blank. But his voice is so soft... so I just do what he says.

            "Try to imagine it. It's louder in person... Nice and even, like breathing... Can you hear the waves crash with your breaths?"

            I'm breathing much slower now. Not panicked, like before. I realized my hands are on my knees, elbows braced, and relax them. "Yeah. I can hear it."

            "When you're in the waves, it's like being in a bath, but you can't feel the sides or bottom. It's warm, And you can feel it pulling you out, and pushing back in with every breath... It feels like it’s alive. Like... it's moving with a purpose that's bigger than you. It's all around you. Can you feel it?"

            I squeeze my eyes shut tighter, tensing my arms and shaking my head a little. "That sounds terrifying."

            "But it's not, because you can swim. You're in control." He's insistent, but trying not to raise his voice above a whisper. "And when you get too tired, you just stand your ground on the pull, and let the push take you back to shore."

            But I can't swim. I've never even tried. The closest I got was when Agatha and I were trapped at the bottom of a well, and even then I just pushed against the walls, arms straining, to stay afloat. I lie back on the bed and open my eyes. Baz can feel my magic's gone by now. He stands abruptly and walks back to his side of the room.

            "Are you going to be able to handle it, going on like this? Fighting out there..." he asks. He's not whispering anymore, but he still sounds... concerned? Kind? I can't tell. And the ceiling is much easier to look at than his face, so...

            "Is it always going to feel that real? I mean... are you always going to hit below the belt and be the biggest... the biggest _arse_ you possibly can be?"

            "Force of habit, I guess." I can hear in his voice he's teasing, but I'm not ready to joke about it yet. He must realize because then he adds, sounding serious again, "Should we... should we come up with a sign? Something I can do so you know it's not real?"

            "Like what?"

             "I don't know. Like..." He's obviously motioning, I'll have to look. I tilt my head back so I can see he's rolling up his sleeve.

            "I'll do this, ok?" He taps two fingers on his pale wrist twice. "Then if you're ok, you do it back. Then I'll know we're... it's ok."

            "Ok," I answer. He does the sign again. I take a deep breath and lift my arms up from the bed. I tap my own wrist twice.

            "Good. You should go to tea. Before the scones are gone."

            I sigh and look back through the still open window. "I'm too tired. And I need a shower." I'm covered in sweat now.

            "Take a nap. I'll wake you in time for roast beef, don't worry." I hear his chair scrape across the floor and creak as he sits down. He's going to study, on the first bloody day back.

            I close my eyes and breathe in the warm air. I feel like crying. I can't take his... his _kindness_ after everything else today. It's like being kissed on a bruise. I still feel raw, and angry, and yet... And yet I want to forgive everything, just like that. I kick off my shoes and fall asleep, lying across the bed, arm over my eyes, just listening to Baz turning pages.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for sticking through this extremely slow burn. I promise I won't make you wait 80,000 words like Rainbow Rowell did.


	8. Chapter 8

AGATHA

            This is why I like Keris: she could have dyed her hair by magic in like, two seconds, but she asked me to help her do it by hand instead.

            “It’s better this way," she says. "It never turns out the same way twice so it’s like a surprise. And besides, now I get to talk to you all afternoon!”

            That makes me smile. We’re going for a kind of peacock look: bright blue at the roots and lime green on the ends. I’m worried it’s just going to end up all blue but Keris says she doesn’t care. And I managed to bleach her roots without making all her hair fall out so I’m counting today as a win no matter what. Now that we’ve switched over to the colours, my room no longer smells like sharp chemicals but instead like flowers. It’s an improvement.

            “Why don’t you dye your hair? It’s so blonde, you could do anything you want. You’d never have to bleach it.”

            I wrinkle my nose. “Mum would kill me. She’d think it was trashy and common.”

             “All the more reason to do it, man!” Keris sticks out her tongue.

            I shrug, slathering more green on the back of Keris’s head. I like my hair the colour it is.

            “How can I get Penny to like me?” she asks. “We don't have to be best friends or anything, but it would be helpful if she didn't _completely_ hate me.”

            “She doesn’t hate you,” I say quickly. “She just... can't stand Trixie because she's so, well, _Trixie_ all the time.”

            “Yeah, but that's not fair, is it? She’s manic is all. It's like me saying I can't stand you because you’re blonde, or Rhys ‘cause he's in a wheelchair.”

            “You hate me ‘cause I'm blonde?” I laugh.

            “Yeah! It's bloody annoying. I'm always having to explain jokes to you... Keep you from pushing on pull doors.”

            I want to shove her, but she’s wearing one of my towels and I don’t want to get any more colour on it than we already have. So I say, “I have the life of your hair in my hands, I wouldn't mock me.”

            Keris puts on a scared voice. “Oh, no, what have I done! Blondie’s getting feisty.”

            I purse my lips and try not to smile. “That's it, you're getting a mullet now.”

            “I don't even have enough hair for a mullet! Are you going to give me mullet _extensions_?”

            I laugh and shake my head. “Seriously, don't worry about Pen. Sometimes she can be a hypocrite, but she’s a good person.”

            “I just want things to be easier when I'm over there. For everyone.”

            “She prefers being on her own in her free time. I think it's just stressful being around two people when she's trying to decompress.”

            Keris flops her arms in her lap, frustrated. “See now, I thought I was _helping_. Keeping Trixie distracted so she could get some work done.”

            “ _Distracted_?” I raise an eyebrow.

            “What? Kissing is distracting.” Keris smiles mischievously. She’s got perfect teeth, and she says she’s never had braces. (Lucky.)

            I hear something slide under my door and when I turn I see it’s a bit of parchment folded into a tight square. Keris turns, too.

            “Can you grab that? I’ve got dye everywhere.” It’s staining the white skin of my wrists teal where the gloves don’t cover.

            Keris grabs it and her eyebrows furrow. “Who’s P-B-L?”

            My cheeks go pink. I can see in the mirror on the back of the door. “Oh. Me.”

            Keris’s eyes light up when she sees my blush. “Oooh, is this from Dev?”

            I try to grab it from her but she’s so tall, and her arms are so long. No wonder she’s so good at lacrosse.

            “Tell me what it means and I’ll give it back!”

            “No, it’s too embarrassing!” I’m trying to pull the gloves off without getting hair colour all over.

            “I know, that’s why I want to know,” she giggles. She crosses her arms, locking the note securely in her grasp.

            “Fine! But he came up with it, ok? I don’t encourage it.”

            Keris’s smile widens. “This is going to be good.”

            I wrinkle my nose. I can’t believe I’m going to have to say it out loud. I say it in a rush, “Personification of beauty and light.”

            “What?!”

            “Personification of—”

            Keris is howling. She clearly heard me the first time.

            “Stop! I told you, I didn’t come up with it.”

            “But you love it!” She points at me with her free hand, still not releasing the note.

            “No!” But I can’t keep the smile off my face. “He also calls me ‘kid,’ so I wouldn’t get too excited about it.”

            “Merry Morgana, he _loves_ you.” She stretches the ‘o’ in love out embarrassingly, but releases the note. “You _have_ to read it to me.”

            “It just says ‘Hey kid, come find me in the library when you’re done with your girlfriend.’ Then there’s a winky face. How did he even get this in here?”

            “Probably spelled it through a window. You shouldn’t go, though. It’s definitely a booty call.”

            I know. I’m really not dim, despite my hair colour. “I haven’t been alone with him since we got back. I have to go.”

            She scrunches up her mouth. “No you don’t. He can ask you to hang out like a normal person, not call you like a dog to the stacks for a quickie.”

            “It’s not like that,” I blush again. (Although, it _is_ like that, a little.) But if I don’t go, he might not ask to see me again. I don’t know how it got like this, he took me to the dance out of pity that I didn’t have a date and I kissed him out of pity that _he_ had a crush and I didn’t and then… somewhere along the way something flipped? He’s so… unemotional _isn’t_ the word. Uninvested, I guess. I don’t know when this got to mean something to me, but it’s clear it doesn’t mean that much to him.

            “Hey, it’s your life! Go if you want, I can finish up on my own. I just think you deserve better.”

            If that’s true, how come I don’t _have_ better?

            “No, I want to see how your hair turns out. He can wait half an hour.”

* * *

            "You made me wait," Dev says in that deep voice I know so well. It's a little different in person than on the phone. (And in the middle of the day instead of after midnight...)

            "I didn't make you do anything. You could have left any time." I answer, trying to sound coy, not nervous. He smirks, his eyebrows flitting up and back down again as if to say, _Is that really what you're going to say to me?_ "But I'm glad you didn't."

            "And miss this?" he asks, and takes me by the waist.

            I let him kiss me, because I do want it. I want the scratch of his stubble, his insistent mouth... "Is this why you asked me here? To make out?"

            He looks down at me thoughtfully. "Yes."

            When he leans back into me, I turn away. "Can't we talk first?"

            "We've talked all summer, I've missed _this_."

            "Yeah, but we've done _this_ this summer, too."

            "Come on..." He lets his voice go sweet, "I missed you."

            "We've been back a week, you could have seen me," I point out. I feel stupid. I should just let him kiss me. I _want_ him to kiss me.

            "I'm just busy. Look, don't give me a hard time. I'm working on something for the Old Families, so I can't talk about it is all. I wasn't trying to hide it from you."

 _How convenient._ I wonder if I should be worried for Simon, but then, it _is_ Dev. How much damage can he do without Baz's help? (That is, if Baz really is on our side now.)

            "...You missed me?" I kiss his rough jaw.

            "I missed you." He holds my face in his big hands and I close my eyes and let those words be enough, for now.

 

SIMON

            It's getting easier now, to deal with the fake fighting. We had a tussle Saturday at lunch when Baz passed by my table and deliberately elbowed my plate of butter onto the floor. I was mid-snarl when he whipped back around and tapped his wrist twice. I tapped back, then called him an unforgivable name and he laughed and said, "It's a shame you're not a _real_ magician," before spelling the butter back just as it was. And I said, "Well at least I'm not a real twat," and it escalated from there. I thought we might get physical (it wouldn't have been our first food fight), but Penny and Niall jumped in.

            When we got back to the room after a pick-up game of football with the other seventh years (We played shirts and skins. We were both skins and it was impossible _not_ to stare a little.), we both had a good laugh about it. It's like a game: we both see who can come up with the cleverest, meanest thing to say or do without really meaning it. The only rule is to stay out of each other's sore spots: he doesn't call me an orphan and I don't bring up him being a vampire. Pretty much anything else is fair game.

            Tuesday afternoon it's still unbearably hot, so we take a break from everything and study together with the window open. Baz has cast **"Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow"** in our room, so there's a flurry of snowflakes falling that never quite touch the ground. Between that and the breeze, it's almost like having central air. Baz has complained about the lack of central air every year for six years. I wonder if he was _actually_ upset all that time because it meant I might take my shirt off. After football practice this weekend, I understand his frustration. To have him right there, looking so good it's _inappropriate_ , and to not be able to touch...

            We haven't—touched, that is—since he's been back. I don't understand it _at all._ I thought after I found out he hadn't cursed my wand, and after I'd saved his life, and after he slept in his bed with me... It doesn't matter what I thought, because I was wrong. When we're alone, he never stares at me anymore. Not even to glare. Sometimes I ask him a question I already know the answer to, just for an excuse for him to look at me.

            I can't figure it out. I don't know what I've done, or said, and I've been playing it cool like Penny said, but sometimes... Sometimes I just want to grab him and kiss him and let the chips fall. _If only he'd get close enough..._

            There is one thing that has changed. I've been wracking my brains and it's the only thing I can think of. The only thing about me that's different since the last time we kissed: I'm a murderer.

            I know Baz says he hunts werewolves now—in fact he's going out tonight, I'm supposed to help him get back inside the ramparts if he sends me a bird—but maybe it's different seeing someone obliterate another person, turn them to nothing more than steam. One of the things I like about Baz, that I've noticed especially now that we're play-fighting, is that he's not afraid of me. He _never_ backs down. But I can't think of any other reason he won't get close to me anymore. Unless Penny's right and he's found someone else. (He does spend a lot of time on the school phone...)

            "Snow, you're making it snow," Baz says, and he's right. I didn't even notice my magic rising, I was so lost in thought, and now there's a puddle of melted snow slowly pooling near the bathroom door. I get up and mop it up with my towel and try to clear my head.

            Baz waits for me to stand up and takes a pair of his posh pyjamas into the bathroom to change. He must be done with his homework. He's going to sleep until moonrise so he's not tired if he's in for a fight.

            "Do you want me to bring you dinner back?" I ask through the door, still trying to think of the ocean or the sound of the waves or whatever bollocks will stop it actually snowing.

            "No, Snow," he calls back. Then I remember he doesn't like to eat in front of me.

            "Maybe something you can take with you when you go?" As soon as I've said it, I feel like a knob. I'm not his grandmum. _Why am I like this?_

            When he comes out he says, "It's fine, I'll drink while I'm out."

            He recasts the spell so that it stops for-real snowing and turns in. I close the heavy curtains for him and try to go back to studying. After half an hour or so, I close my book and lie on my back. Is this what Baz went through all that time? Did he want me like this, and I was completely oblivious? Karma's a fucking bitch. (I try not to use that word, especially around Penny, but I didn't make the saying up and she’s not in my head to yell at me about it.)


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gosh i love this chapter
> 
>  
> 
> [Here is the song Baz is playing towards the end](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ta4UgVL272g)

BAZ

            It's getting easier now, not-touching Snow. Not _wanting_ to touch Snow… It's like putting on an old pair of leather gloves: denying myself this fits like it was made for me. This exquisite torture is all mine.

            I tell Snow I don't need his help tonight. Ever since we got back, I can smell the were stench coming from one of the fourth year girls. She must have been bit over the summer, maybe doesn't even realize it yet. I figure it's better that I'm within the grounds tonight, not without.

            I wake with half an hour until the moon rises, so I hunt in the Catacombs to build up my strength. By the time I get to the Cloisters, the air is thick with the smell.

_What am I going to do if she's inside and the wards won’t let me in?_

            It's a shame there are no girl-Pitches at Watford this year. Marcus's sister just graduated. I could have asked her for help.

            I light a flame in my hand and throw it up in the air to pass the time. If she's left the dorm, the light will draw her to me. It's not even ten, so people are still milling about here and there. I must look like I'm waiting on a bird. Probably for the best. Maybe it will get back to Dev.

            I wind the flame through my fingers. Any moment there should be screaming, growling, gnashing of teeth. But then—

 _There she goes. That's the girl._ It's the little one, Lang, that Bunce spends so much time with now. I walk as quietly as I can behind her and just as she's about to enter the Cloisters I grab her arm.

            "Hungry?" I ask, giving her a smile out of one side of my mouth. Her big eyes are trained on my teeth. I can smell it, the fetid smell of rot. _Any moment..._

            She doesn't scream or pull away. She's not even moving. She's clearly terrified of me.

            But then I look at my watch. The moon has risen. She's still a little girl with a short, dark bob and no fur or fangs to speak of. Her eyes are still brown. What gives?

            "Why do you smell like a werewolf? You're not one," I ask her. Her panicked eyes dart down to her sweater. It's far too big for her, and the weather’s too hot for it anyway. I extinguish my fire and drop her arm. _Bunce called him Dr Lang._ "Was your father—“

            The little Lang doesn't answer, just bolts when I drop her arm. Figures, it was just an unwashed sweater. Just like every other lead this summer, I've turned up nothing. The family business is a bust.

            Except then the wind shifts, and there it is again. Coming from the West, so strong it knocks me back. The were stench is coming from the Wavering Wood.

            I climb the nearest stairs to the battlements and cast **"Float like a butterfly"** and jump. The beast may be outside the castle walls, but it can still do damage out there. I land on the far side of the moat, which is lucky because I didn't feel like swimming through merwolf-infested waters tonight on top of everything else. I don't realize until I'm prowling through the woods that I have no way back into the castle. Oh well, duty calls.

            The were beast, whatever it is, is _hungry._ It's tearing through the trees, too fast for me to keep up, and I end up following a trail of entrails and fur for the first hour. Then, it seems to slow down and I finally catch up. I keep my distance, quiet my breathing, and see that it's definitely a person. (Months without so much as a were _guinea pig_ and now I find a werewolf just like that.) It's alternating between two legs and four, and still searching for more blood, more flesh. By now, it's scared every bird and beast out of this part of the woods and there's nothing for it but to head back to the castle. That's when I relight my flame.

            It notices me and sends up a howl. My fangs pop at the sound and I can feel the hair rise on my neck. My heart’s racing, ready for the fight, but that's not in the plan. I make my ball of fire brighter and sure enough, it stalks toward me, snarling. It’s licking its blood-red canines, its eyes are glinting in the firelight. I start walking backwards.

            I know where I’m going, but finding it yesterday in broad daylight was much easier. And I wasn’t walking backwards. And I wasn’t pulling along with me a six foot monster. When it gets too far behind, I dim the flame and it rushes forward to be in its shrinking sphere of light again. When it gets too close, I just blow and the creature heels to avoid the sparks I send flying. No one could do this but a Pitch. No one else could command fire like this.

            When we reach the cave, I’m sweating from the effort, from nerves, from the flames. Only now I’m in the cave with the beast and there’s no way to get back out without going past it. I make an orb of light and float it up to the ceiling, in between the stalactites. It looks just like the moon. The beast crouches low and yowls up at it. _Maybe I can get past..._ I’m almost to the mouth of the cave when a great black muzzle clamps down on my arm.

            I cast through the pain: **“Get back, Loretta!** ”

            The beast is thrown, but it scrambles right back to its feet. _I’m the only thing to eat in here._ Next time, I’ll have to bring a snack.

            I reach the mouth of the cave and throw up a barrier spell. It shimmers and quakes as the werewolf brings its paws down on it again and again. I check my watch: 12:30. The moon will set around 6. I’ll have to hold it until then.

            The wolf does eventually give up on trying to destroy the barrier, but it takes forty minutes. It takes up pacing back and forth across the mouth of the chamber, waiting for me to let my guard down. Not a chance. I’ve been waiting for this for too long. I’m wired. I couldn’t be more awake if I’d downed four venti pumpkin mocha breves. I can’t use magic to pass the time— or even to heal my arm— I have to focus on keeping the wall up, so I sing instead. The werewolf hates it. It keeps tossing its head and scraping its claws along the ground at the bottom of the barrier. When it gets to be too much, it howls. That only makes me sing louder.

            I can tell it’s wearing down by the time the sky starts to lighten. It’s stopped pacing and is just glaring at me with its crimson eyes, crouched low to pounce if I slip up. But I don’t. I can see the moon set in the low lands to the West, and the beast starts to whine. Then the whine turns into a rasp, and the red eyes go dull violet. They keep changing and end at grey-blue. The slick black fur turns almost translucent and retreats right into its skin. _Her_ skin. She’s got a thick red mop of hair. I don’t recognize her, but she looks younger than me. And she’s definitely not six feet tall anymore, maybe closer to five. She’s wearing school-issued pyjamas and is gasping for breath like she’s just been swimming for her life. I’ve never seen anyone so dirty, or covered in blood.

            Her eyes are still trained on me, trembling, and she’s whispering something over and over again. I drop the barrier spell so I can hear her better, and a fresh wave of her smell washes over me.

            “No, no, no, no, no…”

            “It’s ok,” I say. I offer her a hand but she wraps her arms tight around herself and scrunches her face as if I’ve hurt her.

            “No, no, no, no, no… I’ve bit you. I’ve bit you. I’ve—” she sobs.

            “It’s fine. You can’t Turn me. It’s fine, I promise. Stop crying.”

            “Why did you follow me? I bit you. Too late. You shouldn’t’ve come.”

            I crouch down and smile, showing my fangs. “You can’t hurt me, little puff.”

            I cast **“Get well soon”** and my arm heals itself. I’m collecting a lot of scars on this arm. The girl swallows and tries to brush her mane of curls out of her face with shaking hands. I help her to stand.

            “It’s a long walk back. Drawbridge should be up by then.”

            She still looks like she’s in pain.

            “Are you hurt?” I ask.

            She shakes her head. “No, I…”

            “What’s your name?”

            She looks like she’s trying to remember. Her voice is breathy, uncertain. “Maggie.”

            I spell her as clean as I can and she starts to pick the foliage out of her hair. I roll up the shredded sleeves of my shirt. By the time we get back to the ramparts, we look almost presentable. The drawbridge is down, we’re in luck. And doubly so for me, because just as we go to cross it, Gareth and a boy I recognize from eighth year are walking across it for a run around the moat before class. Thank magic Gareth is such a meathead and a pervert. He’s going to tell Rhys and anyone else who’ll listen that I stayed out all night with a girl. Dev will know by tea time.

            I take Maggie back to the Cloisters. She looks calmer now, but still anxious.

            “Thank you,” she starts, “I was turned this summer and—”

            I cut her off. “You can tell me about it later. Or not at all. Go get some rest. I’ll see you next month.”

            I turn to walk home adding, “And don’t bite anyone.”

* * *

            Back in our room, I smell that green burning smell that can only mean one thing. Snow’s been having nightmares again. Is _still_ having one. He’s trying to say something, but he can’t form the words. I cross the room and stand over him. I call his name but it doesn’t get through. He’s thrashing, and I can feel the heat of his magic rippling off of him. He’s going to light the bloody room up.

            I want to grab him, hold him still, smooth his matted hair out of his face and tell him it will be alright. 

            “Simon!” I call again, and this time his eyelids flutter. I call again. His tawny skin is flushed. Snow starts to catch his breath. I say it one more time, softly this time, “Simon, you’re alright. It’s alright. You were dreaming.”

             He gasps and puts a hand to his forehead. “He was, I was… He was here.”

            “No one’s here.”

            “Because I killed him,” he cries softly. _I see._ I can’t tell him no, he didn’t. He did. He very much so did.

            “You had to. You didn’t know. You had to. It’s ok.”

            Snow pulls the covers up over his head. I’m not sure that’s the best idea, since I can still feel his magic broiling him alive. I cast the snow charm again to cool the room down at least. I shower, and when I come out, Snow looks a little better. He’s sitting up at least.

            “You should miss science. I’ll get there first and make an excuse for you.”

            Snow nods without looking at me. I’m exhausted, but what can I do? We can’t both miss class. It will look suspicious. We don’t have second or third hour together, but I see him in Magic Words. He looks down, but calm now. I won’t fight him today. I’m too tired to anyway.

            When I get back to the room after tea, I think I’ll finally get some time alone, but Snow's sitting on the sill with his legs out the window. He doesn't turn when I come in.

            "Oh, I forgot. Wednesdays you're usually..." But of course he's here. Wednesdays were his appointments with Dr Hightower, and she's gone now.

            He looks back at me now, and it's like there's a cloud over his face. "I can go if you like."

            "No. I just thought I'd practice while you were out, but you're not."

            He looks back out the window. "You can still. I don't mind."

            But I don't play in front of Simon. Not since he did unspeakable things to my violin in our second year because he got sick of me practicing all the time. (I was pissed when it happened, but I realize now I wasn't very good yet and probably drove him mad.)

            I stand there so long Snow finally sighs and says, "I like it, alright? Penny and I used to... follow you to your practices."

            "When?" I ask.

            "Fifth year. All the time."

            "To see if I was plotting?" I half smile since Snow’s still turned away.

            "Why else?" He huffs air out of his nose in a melancholy way.

            Sod it. Why not? I pull my case out from my wardrobe and place it on the bed. I open it and pull my violin out, tucking it under my chin. I try to pretend Snow's not there. I think it's going to be impossible, but after I warm up and check the strings, I go straight into Life on Mars? without even thinking about it. I'd been working on it this summer and sometimes when I'm lying in bed I can still feel it in my hands. Hear it in my head. I don’t even have to think about it now.

            I notice Snow's watching me after a bit, his head leaned into the window frame, his legs still dangling outside. When I bring my bow back down, the note goes sharp. I stop and look away.

            "I can't with you staring at me." I throw in a sneer for good measure.

            "Do you ever feel bad about Philippa?"

            It's such a non-sequitur that even though I know exactly who he means, I ask anyway. "Who?"

            "Philippa. Philippa Stainton. The girl you cursed mute." Snow's pulling his legs back in now and for some reason it feels like we're fighting. Probably because I haven’t slept. I try to remember that we’re both on edge, this isn’t personal.

            "It was an accident," I answer.

            "That's not an answer," Snow shoots right back.

            "Why are you asking this?"

            "Because I need to know. Do you feel guilty?" He's come over to my side of the room now. I back up to the head of my bed and put my violin away. "Why won't you answer?"

            "Because this is ridiculous."

            His voice is rising hysterically. " _You_ don’t want to talk about it? You _ruined_ her life—"

            "I know!" I shout back. Snow takes a step back, surprised. I lower my voice to a hiss. "Crowley, I _know_. _I_ did it! What do you want me to say? I can't take it back. No matter how I feel, it doesn't take it back. So what good does it do to bring it up?"

            Snow's biting the inside of his cheek. I know this look. He can't find the words.

            " _What_?" I ask, ready for whatever he has to throw at me, any insult, any accusation, anything.

            (Almost.)

            "I just wondered— if you could understand... Wondered if you knew how I felt, is all." Snow looks down at the floor and covers his face with one hand. He's trying to hide it, but I know he's crying. His shoulders are trembling. His breathing is uneven.

            I want to wrap him in my arms. I want to tangle my fingers in his curls, press my lips to the top of his head, hold him so tight that he'll know... _You're alright, Simon. You're alright._

            But I can't. And I know he wouldn't want me to. So I just tell him from here.

            "You're alright, Snow."


	10. Chapter 10

PENELOPE

            Ani says she's not a general, but she sure as heck acts like one. I've managed to talk her down to only two meetings a week, Wednesdays and Saturdays, and talked her down from three hours on Saturday to two. She wanted me to make Simon come too, but I mercifully convinced her he'd be useless at translating. I can't honestly believe she really wants to spend so much time with the person who killed her father, anyway, even if it was by accident.

            Working with Ani on the harness is the right thing to do. I swear, I'd do it anyway. Ever since Simon destroyed the original, I couldn’t stop thinking about what a tragedy it was for magickal science and medicine. But I can't help but hope I'll find in her father's notes something, some flaw that proves Simon isn't causing the Insidious Humdrum's holes. The Humdrum has barely attacked at all, here or anywhere else, since the night of the full moon in May. The holes are growing, but no faster than before. It's never been this quiet, and if it's connected to Simon’s magic, that makes no sense. Simon says his magic was spilling over all summer.

            I tried looking at my father's work while I was home to see if there was any connection, but it was useless. The only dates I know for sure were dates that Simon went off when we fought the Humdrum, and of course _those_ corresponded to the holes opening up. The Humdrum fought us, and created the hole at the same time, while it was active.

            Dr Lang’s theory doesn't make any sense. If they're connected, why is the Humdrum stealing magic at all? Why does it keep trying to kill Simon? Who's controlling it?

            And Dad says there's no detectable pattern to the holes. They've tried every kind of geographic and numerological analysis they can think of, and they can't find any explanation. If this _is_ deliberate, then why are the holes appearing at random?

 _And_ if it really is the Mage behind it all, why protect Simon? Why train him all these years, only to put him in danger at every turn? How many times were we literally about to die and by chance or guesswork or own cleverness we somehow survived? (Absolutely no thanks to the Mage, I might add). The Mage would have to be a genius to pull this all off, but somehow also stupid enough to let Simon, his fake messiah, fall into mortal peril again and again and _again_? It's nonsense!

            But so far, Simon's name hasn't come up in any of Dr Lang's journals. They're so meticulous and methodical, and they're divided up by subject. One is completely filled with analysis of the evolution of Celtic runes to try to find which minute changes to the alphabet will be most effective for the engravings on the harness. Ten pages just to defend his decision to use runes for the metal bits and calligraphied Glagolitic (for that's what the other language was) for the leather which amounted to: "runes are easier to carve into metal because they're made of straight lines."

            Once, when Ani had to use the restroom (which she does about every twenty minutes, the tiny tank), I tried **"Fine-tooth comb—Simon!"** on the pages she had brought that day, but it didn't turn up anything. I _have_ learned, however, that I _hate_ Glagolitic script. The words actually are in English, but I'm crap at drawing and each little symbol takes me about a minute to make. And Ani insists that we get the calligraphy perfect before trying it on the real harness.

            By our fifth meeting, I can't take it anymore.

            "This is ridiculous!" I shout after screwing up the same symbol for the ninth time. "What is the point of working on penmanship when we're never actually going to make this thing? How are we going to bend the silver? Are _you_ a blacksmith, Ani?"

            She narrows her dark round eyes at me. "I'm working on that. We'll find something."

            "And the leather?" I quote from the journal still lying open to my left, "'While deer is most-easily procured, boar, kangaroo, shark, and dragon leathers are all preferred.' _How_ are we going to get shark leather?"

            "I'm working on that, too."

            "Can you afford any of this?" I want this to work, I really do. But there's going to come a point where we need the help of real scientists, and real money.

            "Penny. I'm leading this operation. When we get out in the field, I can't have you questioning my every move like this. I need your trust and cooperation."

_In the field?_

            "Are you seriously suggesting we test this ourselves?" I lay my pen down.

            She tosses her head to the side. "Why not? We have a werewolf hunter, we can find them by smell. We can start with were beasts and work from there. That way if it doesn't work we can put them out of their misery, and slow the spread of the disease."

            I furrow my brows. "Who? Who's our werewolf hunter?"

            "Grimm-Pitch. Basilton or whatever."

            "What makes you think that?" I cross my arms. _I_ know because Simon told me. But how the hell does she know.

            "My dad said so. Said the 'walking corpse' was a Pitch, and all Pitches carry the genes. He'd fought Pitches before him. It's all in his journals."

            I grab Ani's arm. Her eyes go wide at my sudden intensity. " _Don't_ _call him that._ "

            "What? ‘Walking c—?"

            I shush her and look around the reference section. Thank Morgana, it's empty as always. "You can't tell anyone that, ok? I mean anyone. Ok? You know how people treated your dad? They'll do that to him, and he's important to Simon. And Simon's important to me so just don't. Got it?"

            She still looks terrified, so I release my grip from her arm. She nods agreement, her eyes still popping.

            I go back to my calligraphy and try to will myself to find something interesting about it.

            "Why is he important to Simon?" Ani whispers.

            "Morgana, I wish I could answer that."

* * *

            "I don't understand why he's here." Agatha nods her head toward Baz, but doesn't look at him. It was like pulling teeth to get her up here. I can't believe I got mum's spell to work on the wards and she was able to come up.

            Today is the first meeting of the Magelings. (That's what Baz calls us.) It took forever to find a day that worked for everyone between lacrosse and football and violin practice and studying and Simon meeting with the Mage and my Micah dates and meetings with Ani and Sunday morning breakfast with Ags. In the end, only Friday worked for all of us.

            "Baz is going to help us," Simon explains for the tenth time.

            "Yeah, so Penny keeps telling me. But why? How can we trust him? And why does he want to? And why do we _want_ his help? What's he got that we haven't got?"

            "Money," I start.

            Agatha gestures with both hands towards herself. " _I_ have money!"

            Simon adds, "Me too."

            "You've got money?" I ask.

            "Yeah. Leprechauns. I told you. And he's smart."

            "Penny's smart," Agatha cuts in.

            "And you're the tallest of us," I say to Baz, since it feels a little rude that were not addressing him directly when he's right there, leaning against the end of his bed. I'm sitting at his desk, Agatha's at Simon's, and Simon is leaning against his own bed. (Suddenly standing a little straighter, I notice...)

            "So?" Baz asks.

            I shrug. "High shelves."

            "He's not _that_ tall." Simon crosses his arms.

            "Stop it!” Agatha’s getting irritated. “Answer my other question. Why in Merlin's name are you helping us?"

            Baz swallows and smoothes back his hair with one hand. "I owe Snow one. That's all. And you've all forgotten I have super strength. And speed. And can see in the dark. And super smell—"

            "Super smell?" Simon asks incredulously. "How's that helpful? What are you going to do, find us scones? Wait, oh shit..." Simon's arms drop to his sides again.

            "No, Snow, _Crowley_." Baz is smiling on the side of his face that Simon can't see. "I mean I can smell were beasts."

            "You can?" Agatha asks.

            "Yeah." He quips back, "Your boyfriend can, too."

            Then Agatha and Simon respond in unison:

            "He's not my boyfriend."

            "He's not her boyfriend."

            Baz's smile fades. He's so _obvious_. Is it because he thinks Simon can't see? And is Simon really that dense not to notice?

            "What do the Old Families think of this?" Agatha asks, looking up at Baz for maybe the first time since we got up here. Simon looks to Baz, too.

            "They don't know, of course."

            "But they know you're not working with them, anymore. You _were_ working with them?" I ask.

            Baz clears his throat.

            "See? We can't trust him!" Agatha stands to go.

            "Look, I'm not helping them. I'm actually spending a lot of time and energy sending Dev on a wild goose chase—"

            "Wait, Dev doesn't know? He's not in on it?" Agatha asks suddenly.

            Baz crosses his arms coolly and shrugs. "Of course not."

            Agatha takes a deep breath. "I'm in."

            Everyone stares at her. She sits back down like it's not super weird that working against her not-boyfriend is what convinced her to join us.

            "O-kay..." I try to break the awkward tension. "You're like a double agent, then."

            "Yeah, like James Bond," Simon chimes in.

            "Was James Bond ever a double agent?" I think aloud.

            "So what do you actually do? How do you... fight the Humdrum?" Baz asks.

            The silence is telling. No one has to say that we don't know what we're doing. Baz knows.

            Simon begins, "Well, we usually wait for it to attack..."

            "Or for the Mage to tell us what to do," Agatha adds, and Simon winces. I don't think we're supposed to talk about the Mage in front of Baz. He thinks he has it out for his family.

            "Sometimes we're busy doing other things—other missions. Like destroying Manticorps." I try to make us sound a little less ineffective.

            "Manticorps still exists," Baz says.

            Simon makes a noncommittal noise. "In a manner of speaking. But now they're more of like a weekend live-action role play group than a sinister multinational cabal. All the members with any real power..." Simon raises his eyebrows on the last word, " _disappeared_."

            This sounds ominous and all, but really Simon just tricked them into touching the Third Gate after he passed through it himself. They're probably in a hell dimension somewhere, but since that's where they came from in the first place, it's probably ok by them.

            “Why don’t we start with what we know…” I cast, **“See what I mean”** and start writing out columns in the air: _What We Know… What We Don’t Know…_

            “It takes magic,” Simon says and I write it.

            “It’s after Simon,” Agatha says. I write it.

            “But why?” Baz asks.

            “We don’t know,” Simon answers.

            “Well, what’s special about you?” I ask.

            “Your magic,” Baz offers.

            “Or maybe that you’re the first magician whose parents were Normal,” I suggest. I don’t want this conversation to head down the same line of thinking as Dr Lang.

            “Is that true?” Baz says, looking directly at Simon. I notice he avoids looking at Simon as much as Agatha avoids looking at him.

            Simon just shrugs. “I don’t know. No one knows who my parents are.”

            “But magickal parents would never abandon a magickal child. I think they must have been Normal, and could sense Simon’s power and were afraid of him.” I shouldn’t have said that. Simon’s shaking his curls out with his fingers in agitation.

            “Let’s get off _me_ , shall we?”

 _Gladly._ “Let’s focus on the Humdrum. What it does, what it’s like.”

            “It doesn’t attack you in the summer, right? When you’re away from Watford,” Baz points out.

            “Good. That might be something. And it doesn’t attack Watford when you’re not here,” I add.

            “Yes it does,” Baz says and makes a face.

            “When?” Simon shakes his head.

            “August 12th, 2002.” Baz is looking at Simon like he’s an idiot, but I don’t know what he’s talking about either.

            “Oh,” Agatha says quietly. Simon and I look at her but she’s looking down at her lap.

            “What? Am I missing something?” Simon sits down on his bed and looks at me, but I shake my head. I don’t—

“ _Oh,_ ” I echo Agatha. I catch Simon’s eye and look furtively toward Baz and then quickly back.

“What?” Simon looks at Baz and I can tell when he gets it. His eyebrows relax and his eyes go wide with recognition. “The Humdrum sent the vampires.”

Baz tilts his chin up. “That’s what everyone says.”

“Did you feel it?” I ask. “Could you feel the dry feeling it gives off?”

“I don’t remember. There was a lot going on.” Baz tucks a loose hair behind his ear. He doesn’t like the attention on him anymore than Simon does.

“It never does the same thing twice,” I write it in the air. Then I add _dry, sucking feeling_ underneath that, since we mentioned it.

“What do you mean?” Baz asks.

“Well, the Humdrum never sends the same monster twice, or attacks at the same time.” Simon brightens up whenever he knows something Baz doesn’t. “Like how it just sent the samodiva at the equinox bonfire? It will never send one of those again, and now we know the next bonfire will be safe.”

“Well that’s convenient, isn’t it?” Baz holds his hand out like a waiter holding a tray. “Why don’t we just get a list of dates and place it’s attacked and then we’ll know when and how it’s definitely _not_ going to attack?”

“Yeah,” I cut in, “but it’s so weird. What kind of _thing_ attacks like that? Who thinks like that? Like it’s a—”

“Game,” Baz finishes my sentence. “It’s playing with you,” Baz says, though he’s still staring intently at me, “like a child.”

“It can’t be though, it’s been attacking since, like the nineties.” I chew my lip.

“Maybe it has the _mind_ of a child, whatever it is. It keeps changing the rules because it’s bored.” Baz is leaning forward now. I put _playing a game?_ under _What We Don’t Know_. I feel like we’re on to something. At least, this is the first idea we’ve had that has nothing to do with Simon, so that’s good.

We go on like this for another half an hour or so, mostly Baz and me, and when we’ve run out of ideas, Agatha copies all our notes down onto parchment.

“Where did you get those books on werewolves?” I ask Baz. “The ones you lent Simon? I think it might help to learn more about the beasts the Humdrum has sent, or might send. See if we can figure out a rhyme or reason to it.”

“I didn’t lend Snow anything,” Baz answers. (He’s still standing, leaned against his bed post. Doesn’t he get tired of trying to look cool all the time?)

I start to argue with him, but then I remember that was when they were still actually fighting, and Baz was trying to hide the fact he was helping us. Instead of now, where they’re pretend fighting and openly helping each other. (So weird.)

“The ones Simon found on your desk last year, I mean.”

“From my library.”

Simon closes his eyes and shakes his head. He looks pained. “You have a _library_?”

“So do my parents, Simon,” I point out.

“That’s not a library. That’s just a bunch of books in a room.” he replies.

Baz quips, “That _is_ a library, Snow.”

“You know what—” Simon starts, but he’s fighting a smile. I _like_ this. I like seeing Simon happy. And Baz is funny when he’s not being cruel. And I knew he was smart, but when he was against us it was the worst thing about him, not the best. I feel like we’re actually, _finally_ going to start working things out about the Humdrum, if anyone’s going to find the flaw in Dr Lang’s theory it’ll be him. He’s so contradictory.

I just hope we can trust him.


	11. Chapter 11

MAGGIE

            I was starting to wonder if I’d never see him again. I mean, I see him all the time around school, but he never talks to me. Never acknowledges me at all. Or anyone in third year, actually. It made me feel crazy, like I dreamed it. It did _seem_ like a dream. Or a fairy tale. A handsome, older man comes to rescue me from turning into a giant beast and eating all my friends? That’s not real life.

            The other night, when the girls and I were brushing our teeth, I gave in and asked about him. They made a fuss over sighing and oh-ing at me pityingly.

            “I know he’s fit, and all? But there’s no chance. He doesn’t date _at all_.”

            “He’s probably waiting to get out of here and find some gorgeous model at uni.”

            “All the seventh years think he’s gay.”

            “Maybe he’s nothing, you know? Maybe he doesn’t like anyone like that.”

            I tried to tell them that wasn’t what I meant, but they didn’t care. They moved on to talking about how dreamy and sweet his roommate was, and single this year, apparently. Simon Snow. The Chosen One. As if he’d ever notice a third year girl.

            I just wanted to know what Baz’s _like_. If he’s going to turn me in. Or use what he knows as blackmail. (Although I can’t imagine what he would blackmail me for. I have nothing that he could possibly want.) (Especially if he’s gay…)

            I can’t believe he’s just doing it out of the kindness of his heart. Even if I hadn’t witnessed it first hand in the dining hall or out on the lawn, everyone knows he’s a total bully. Especially to Simon Snow. So he _must_ want something.

            It’s almost the full moon again, and I’m sitting in the library twisting my cuff out of nervousness, wondering what I’m going to do. (My cuff is what I use to do magic. It’s sort of a big copper bracelet. It was my great-grandfather’s.) (He had quite small arms.) The moon is going to rise before the drawbridge goes down, so I can’t just trap myself outside the walls again. I wish there was a dungeon I could lock myself into. I checked, the Watford dungeons disappeared around the 1950s. Just, melted into the foundations.

            He sits down so quietly that I don’t even notice and he scares the crap out of me when he speaks.

            “Bite anyone?”

            “What! _No!_ ” I shriek. I look around, but no one’s within earshot.

            He laughs, and it’s not a comforting laugh. “Very well then. The moon rises at 6:20 tomorrow. Shall I meet you at six o’clock? Can you find your own way to the cave, or shall I take you there?”

            “What are you talking about? Are you helping me again?”

            “Of course. Can you find your own way? Never mind, I’ll come and collect you at the Cloisters.” He’s already standing to leave.

            “Wait!” I squeak out. “Why are you helping me?”

            “Familial duty?” he says it like it’s a question, like he’s wondering if I’ll buy it. He’s got one eyebrow raised, and the girls are right. He’s dead handsome. (And he knows it.)

            If he thinks he can just give me a look and I’ll go all swoony and let him boss me around—

            But he’s swaggering away before I can tell him off.

            He shows up promptly at 6 on Wednesday night. I’m in my pyjamas again, with my jacket this time since the weather’s finally turned. He’s dressed all in black, like he’s going to rob a bank, not babysit a werewolf. I try to talk to him, to explain how I turned and get _him_ to explain why he’s helping me, but he shushes me until we get to the forest.

            “Are you going to shut me in that cave again with your magic shield? Because the moon’s going to be up for twelve hours. There’s no way you’re going to be able to stay awake the whole time. I’ll break out and eat you.”

            “I’m fairly certain I would wake up if you started eating me, Peggy.”

            “ _Maggie_ ,” I correct him.

            “If you say so. And no, I’ve found a new spell. I’ll spell you in, and then I’ll go hunt. Maybe bring you back a friend. Take a nap if I feel like it.”

            “You think there are other werewolves?”

            Baz spins around and sees the fear on my face. “I don’t know, Maggie. Did you scratch anyone?”

            “No!”

I answer through gritted teeth.

            “And what happened to the beast that bit you?”

            “I don’t know, I’ve _tried_ to tell you. It happened camping in Lake District. I was on holiday—”

            He cuts me off with a hand. He’s so _rude_. “Fine. That’s all I need to know.”

            Maybe it’s the beast coming on, but I am ready to rip this brat’s head off. “Excuse you, whoever you are, but you don’t get to just boss everyone around all the time, you know? You can’t just come around and tell me to go sit in a cave and expect me to believe you’ll take care of everything. How do I know you’re not taking me to some weird sacrifice? Or taking me to the Mage’s men or something? You can’t just expect me to blindly trust you.”

            “Look, I showed you my fangs, haven’t I? I can’t turn you in without turning myself in, little puff.”

            “Don’t call me that!” I snap.

            “Alright,” he says. And I realize we’re at the cave already. “In you go.”

            I feel like arguing, maybe ripping his face off, and I realize it _is_ the beast making me so angry. I hurry into the cave while I still have the choice. I hear him start to say, **“Sticks and stones…”** but at his first words the mouth of the cave shrinks and closes, vines growing over the rock face, blocking him from view. I throw myself against the wall, testing it, but it’s so dark I can’t see where the opening was. I’m scrambling around, thinking _I’ve gotta get out, I can’t stay like this, I’ve gotta get out._

            But then I lose myself.

            The beast finds me in the dark.

 

BAZ

            Bunce arrives at 11:30, just like she promised. My hunt turned up nothing, so I sent her a bird it was all clear.

            “I’ve left the ladder for you," she says, "but are you sure you want to go back? You could sleep here. I can conjure a tent or something. At least a blanket.”

            “No, I want to go back. Snow’s nightmares are worse around the full moon. He's likely to burn the whole bloody dorm down.” She smiles knowingly at that. I give her a sneer. “He needs to start going back to the therapist. He needs professional help. He’s getting better, but I can’t do it all myself. I don’t know what I’m doing.”

            “That’s not what he says.” Bunce sits down beside me. She’s brought books and a blanket. “He says you do the mindfulness stuff loads better than Dr Hightower ever did.”

            I shake my head. “If Dr Hightower couldn’t get through to him, it wasn’t her fault.”

            Bunce is staring at me, trying to read me, so I stand to leave.

            “Maybe you should start going to the new doctor they hired? I bet if _you_ did it, he’d think about it.”

            I don’t answer. I’m not going to explain to her that no one’s going to be like Dr Hightower. Even if they did bring me blood. No one’s going to be able to see through me with just one look like she could with her super power, and I wouldn’t let them anyway. Certainly not anyone the Mage has hired. I start to walk back toward the ramparts but Bunce grabs at my jacket.

            “Wait, can you stay just a bit? I’m nervous.”

            “You think you’ll be _less_ anxious with me here?” I ask.

            “Well, yeah. You’re on our side now, right?” Bunce shrugs.

            “I would absolutely not phrase it that way, no.”

            She laughs quietly in the dark. “Just sit down.”

            I do, but not next to her. I sit against a tree a little ways off, looking away.

            “Fight with me,” she says.

            “What?”

            “Fight with me about something. It will help me wake up.” She’s yawning before she can even get the words out.

            “Like what?” I ask.

            “I don’t care, Baz. You never seem to have trouble finding something to argue about in class.” Bunce is rubbing her arms. (It _is_ a little chilly...)

            “Well, people are usually wrong.”

            She raises her eyebrows and leans forward, shaking her head. “Even the teachers, Baz?”

            I scoff. “ _Especially_ the teachers.”

            She rolls her eyes. There’s a sharp tug behind my navel that reminds me I should be checking on Snow, but if Bunce falls asleep after I leave and my spell fails… I’ll have worse than his nightmares to worry about if I leave his best friend to get eaten. I humour her.

            “Romeo and Juliet is a tragedy,” I say.

            “How can you say that, it’s clearly a comedy.” She’s talking fast, excited already by the prospect of winning an argument.

            “’The fearful passage of their death-mark'd love?’ How can you hear that and think you’re about to read a delightful romp?” We fought about this before in class, last term. I don't mind when she does that. She’s the only person who can keep up with me, actually. It’s too bad she’s always wrong.

 

PENELOPE

            Baz is so smart, it’s too bad he can be such a knob. I can tell when he knows I’m right though, because when he doesn’t respect your opinion at all, he only gets more and more polite. When he resorts to insults, he knows he’s lost.

            “Yeah, but how are we really supposed to take the love of a _three day_ _long_ relationship seriously?" I ask.

            "It's a _play_ , not a documentary. Did you want Shakespeare to show them falling in love slowly over half a decade?" Baz tilts his head and gives it a shake. His arms are stretched out, propped on his knees. I've never seen him so relaxed. He must be tired.

            "Well how about the fact that Juliet is thirteen! It’s a joke! No one understands love at thirteen.” I stab the air with my index finger.

            “With all due respect, Ms Bunce, that’s ridiculous. Anyone can fall in love. They’re _star-crossed_. They’re destined to fall in love, _and_ destined to die, it doesn’t matter how old she is.”

            “That’s bollocks. You can’t really believe that!” I’m shivering between words. It’s going to be unimaginably cold when we have to do this again next month. _Morgana, what are we going to do in January?_

            Baz lights a fire in his hand and shapes it into a sphere. He throws it at me and I catch it, sort of. It hovers just above my hands. I hold it out in front of me. It's kind of blue, but it's keeping all the air around me warm. “Thanks.”

            “You sound surprised, Bunce. You know I’m a Grimm-Pitch,” his voice dripping with disdain.

            “I’m not surprised you can make fire, I’m surprised you made fire for _me._ ”

            “Sorry, I forget your lot think I’m the actual devil.” Baz looks off into the trees.

            “That’s not true. Not by half,” I say, making sure to sound extra annoyed so he knows I mean it. Baz looks like he wants to say something, but he just stands up again instead.

            “I really should go check the room.”

            “Ha! Ok. Tell the room I said hello, if it’s awake.”

            “Listen, Bunce, whatever Snow told you, whatever happened... It’s not like that now. I just want to get through this. Defeat the Humdrum, then it’s over, alright? It's no good pushing two people together when one of them isn’t interested. It only gives the other false hope."

             "Is it false, though?" I ask quietly.

            He's got his hands in his jacket pockets, looking effortlessly cool. "Yes. Yes, of course it is. _Obviously_.”

            I pull my shoulders up. "Don’t oversell your argument, you had me at 'yes.'"

            “If she breaks out," he motions with his elbow in the direction of the cave, "don’t try to fight her and _don’t_ try to run. Just make a barrier and send a bird. I’ll come as soon as I can.”

            “Who am I even guarding?” I look back at the mass of vines and rocks behind me that is supposedly hiding a were girl.

            “Marge or something. Third year with the long red hair. Only comes up to here.” He holds his hand halfway up his chest.

            “Maggie?” I ask.

            He snaps his fingers. “ _That’s_ it. I’ve got to write it down.”

 

BAZ

            I don't smell campfire when I get back, but Snow is tucked up in a tight ball under his covers. _Whimpering_. I pull his chair out and sit at the head of his bed. I lean over him, as close as I dare, careful not to touch, and whisper into the tangle of bronze hair tumbling over his pillows.

            "You're alright. It's going to be alright, Simon... It's alright." He must have worn his cross to bed, because there's a feeling like static across my lips.

            I repeat myself until he uncurls and quiets, and then I slide into my own bed and fall asleep.

            When my alarm goes off at 6, it wakes Snow, too.

            "Where are you going?" he mumbles. "Too early."

            "None of your business. Go back to sleep."

            Bunce is rubbing her eyes when I find her. "Was the room ok?"

            "Just fine," I answer, and start breaking down the barrier holding Maggie captive. She's lying asleep on the ground with her frizzy orange hair going every which way. There's claw marks all over, on the stone walls, even. I kneel beside her, despite the smell. "Time to get up, little puff."

            Maggie looks up at me, tears in her eyes. Her voice is hoarse. "I can't... I can't. It was so dark. The beast couldn't take it. Please don't leave me without a light next time. Please. Please. Please."

            "I'm sorry. I won't. I should have realized." She's still sobbing and shaking. I scoop her up (she's lighter even than Snow) and start walking us both back to Watford. Bunce is right beside me, chewing her lip and staring. She acts like she's never seen me do this before. I glance down at her, "What? I told you I wasn't the devil."

            "I never said that, Baz. _You_ did."


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heyo so i promise everything is happening for a reason.

BAZ

It should have been me that killed Dr Lang. Snow’s tossing and turning again tonight, having another bad dream. He hasn’t cried out, yet. (Doesn’t make it any easier to listen to him, though.) I can’t feel his magic yet, but it will come. It always does. Just before the screaming.

I never thought I’d feel guilty about _not_ killing someone. But it should have been me. _I’m_ the monster, I could have borne it. I’ve managed with dreams of killing Snow for years, this would be nothing to me. Waking still able to taste his blood… I could feel his body go limp in my arms…

How can someone so powerful still be so weak? _No, not weak, just good._ How is he ever going to defeat the Humdrum? Will he cry about that, too?

 _How is he ever going to defeat_ me _?_ Snow couldn’t even kill the vampires he _didn’t_ know, the ones the Mage sent him after last year. I always knew Snow would end me, how can it be that he’s not cut out for it? This truce can’t go on forever. Once I’ve got the war I’m after, we’ll go back on our proper sides like good little soldiers. I never imagined I’d have the upper hand.

A sudden warmth washes over me, and my thoughts go cloudy. It’s almost like being drunk. It’s Snow’s magic. Sure enough, he starts to growl, and then his growl turns into a whine. I shove off my covers and lean over his bed. I have to brace one arm against his headboard to support myself.

“Simon, it’s alright. Simon. Simon.”

_Simon._

_  
_ * * *

Football practice is only twice a week in the autumn. Usually only those on the team or someone desperate to join it even show up. I try telling Snow not to come. It will look better if he's trying to avoid me, and besides, it's too hard not to accidentally touch him on the field.

But he doesn't listen. Says he loves it too much, and I don't want to fight him. Not when I don't have to.

The first few weeks of practices passed without issue. We were on the same team so there was no reason to get too close. Then I missed a practice on my birthday, and Snow missed one because he fell asleep and I didn’t bother to wake him. A couple practices were cancelled due to water-logged pitch as the weather finally caught up with the season. But it’s the seventh week of classes, and Coach Mac has put us on opposing teams. Snow's defending their right corner and I'm left wing, as usual. It couldn't have been worse luck. I try to steer clear of him, but I'm playing shit trying to focus on that _and_ playing the ball. Coach Mac keeps yelling for me to get my head out of my arse. I finally do— I've scored a goal, I think— and just as I let it fly, Gareth tumbles into me.

We're a tangle of limbs; my wrist is twisted beneath the two of us uncomfortably. Gareth gets up and humbly accepts his yellow card (tackled after I lost possession) and a telling off from Coach about not hurting members of our own team for no reason in the offseason. Then Snow, sodding Good Samaritan that he is, puts out his hand to help me up.

I take it before I've seen who it is and I have a split second of looking into those clear, unsuspecting blue eyes before we're both thrown back with a shock.

 

SIMON

What the fuck just happened? Did I go off? It didn't feel like it, I wasn't upset. And going off doesn't hurt me, and that _hurt._

"Are— Baz, are you—" Whatever it was hit us both hard, and he's on his knees ten feet away. When he hears me he gives me a meaningful look and shakes his head almost imperceptibly. _That's right._ _We're not alone. We're still performing, even now._

He lets his arms fall in his lap and he taps his wrist twice, slowly. I tap my right wrist back, my body blocking it from the gathering crowd.

Coach Mac has got his hand on Baz's shoulder, is asking Baz what happened, if he's ok. Baz is nodding and answers in a loud, bitter voice. "Sorry, I just had to defend myself. After last year, I thought it was best just to curse him so he couldn't touch me."

 _What?_ What is he saying? He raises his eyebrows and speaks slowly, like he's talking to some dumb animal. "Have you learned your lesson, Snow? Don't. Fucking. Touch me."

I suck in a breath. _Is this real? Did Baz really curse me so I can't touch him?_ I tap my arm again to be sure. Baz's hands are still.

_Maybe he didn't see._

I do it a third time. He shakes his head once, his dark hair falling in his eyes.

Baz gets up and goes back to the match, but I can't. My brain is nothing but screeching static. _Why?_ This can't be real. _Why would he do this?_

I stumble to my feet and all I can do, all I can think is _run_.

 

BAZ

I tell Coach Mac I've twisted my wrist and need to see the nurse. Lying is easier than breathing.

I chase Snow back to Mummer's House. _Isn't this always the way? Me chasing after Simon Snow?_

I get back to our room and he slams the door behind me. He's in my face, spitting.

"Why didn't you tell me? If you didn't want me to touch you, why didn't you tell me? It's not much of a deterrent if I don't even know the spell exists."

"It's not meant for _you_. It's not even _on_ you." It's on _me._  I'm defensive before I know why. Doesn't he know? Can't he remember what happened the last time I almost kissed him? I'm not stupid enough to think _he'd_ want to touch _me_.

"‘Not for me?’ What the fuck, Pitch? Who's it for, then? _John_ Snow? Snow White? Or did you fuck up a weatherization spell _that_ badly?"

    My hands clench into fists. "No! Aleister Crowley, you numpty, it's so _I_ can't touch _you_ , how are you not getting that?"

" _Why_?" he growls.

I want to tell him the truth. I want him to know just how fucked up I am. I want him to hate me to his core. _Everything will be so much easier then_. So I do.

"Because I wanted your power! You gave me a taste of it, and I wanted it all. It. Was. _Infinite!_ I could have done anything. I could have turned it against you, and you just _gave_ it to me, you complete moron. _I_ could control it. I'd take it from you, if I let myself. "

He's shaking his head.

"I don't believe you. If you wanted it so badly, why do this? Are you still trying to prove you’re better than me? You don’t need it to beat me? Is that it? I can't _do_ the things that you can, alright! Is that what you want to hear?" He throws his arms wide. The madder he gets, the cooler I get. I've practiced this so long, I don't even have to try. It’s a reflex.

"Don’t be an idiot. You have more natural magickal ability than I ever will. You could have anything you wanted, you're just too bloody scared to take it." He's not too scared, just too _good_. (But what's the difference?)

Snow’s tearing at his curls. "Are you shitting me? I can't get _anything_ I want! You already _have_ everything and you don't even know it. _You_ have a family, money, the fucking club, a family crest for Christ's sake, a name—"

I glare at him. "You have a _name_ , Snow."

He growls back, "A bastard's name! You have to know that, it's Game of sodding Thrones! Ever since I found out I've had to wonder if my name was just a joke. And every time you say it..."

He's too angry for words. His face is red and he's harassing his hair with both hands. His name... I hadn't meant it like that. "That's nonsense. Were the books even out when you were born?"

"Yes!" he shouts. "Of course! I know you think I'm thick, but I _did_ think of that."

I lower my voice. I hadn't realized. And besides, he's still wrong. "Your name isn't a joke."

Snow looks into my eyes like whatever I say he's going to clobber me, even though he knows he can't. His shoulders are still heaving. I keep on, "I don't know who gave you it or why, but your name is what you make of it. Jesus could have been named Marvin and he'd still have been, you know, _Jesus_."

_Marvin Christ._

The idea is so ridiculous, Snow has to look away. The muscles in his jaw flex as he tries to slow his breathing. He's realized I'm not fighting him anymore.

"The Pitch name is what it is because of _someone else_. People see me, and they only see my mother, my family. They have no idea who I am, and they don't care. They only see what came before. But when they look at you, they just see you. You get to be the first Snow."

He doesn't say anything. He looks like he's deflating, shoulders hunched, arms drawing to his chest. He's calming down on his own.

"I'm sorry... I saw your name first... just like everyone else."

"No." I don't want to defend myself. "You're right. I have... I have a lot, and I don't have to think about it, because it's always been there."

Snow is quiet. He's looking down now. I can tell he feels bad about what he said (and about the curse) because his eyes won't meet mine. I want to reach out and lift his chin…

He sits on the floor, back against his bed. Exhaling loudly. I sit down too. The hardwood is cool and smooth under my hands. I give him my profile, and sit three feet away, more than an arm's length. This isn't at all like when we watched Harold and Maude, even if we are sitting in the same exact place. I'm not hoping for anything, and now he knows he can't give anything.

"I'm sorry," Snow says. He still won't look at me.

"Don't be. Sometimes...." I let out a sigh. Am I really going to go there? "Sometimes I look at what we are, the Pitches and Grimms, and I'm disgusted. I see you come back at the end of the summer and you're clearly not eating. And I have a cook. I mean, I'm not heartless. Not entirely. I know it's not fair. I _know_ it's fucked."

"You have a cook?" His eyebrows knit together.

"Crowley, _yes_ , Snow."

He finally looks at me, incredulously. "Real people don't have cooks."

"You got me, I'm fake," I reply sarcastically.

He lets out a puff of air that's almost a laugh. After a moment he says, "I know your family worked for everything they have—and I don't want it, believe me—but it's like you said. There's people like you, and the Wellbeloves, and people like me. That’s why the Mage wants everyone to live in the middle, and be okay."

I roll my eyes. I want to say, _“Yeah, except he wants to take what people like me have by force.”_ But I‘ve already decided not to argue with him. And besides, it’s not true, what he said. My family didn't work for what we’ve got, we were born with it. We just held on to what other people built. (Not that we don't deserve it, mind you.)

"Hey," I say, trying to get his attention. His blue eyes meet my grey again. "You didn't go off. I didn't feel your magic at all."

He blinks and pulls his chin back. Snow looks down at his chest and arms as if just realizing they're there. "Merlin. That's weird."

I lean my head back into the bed and let myself laugh.

 

SIMON

To protect me. He cursed himself to protect me. _From himself_. That's why he doesn't touch me anymore.  

"I don't get it. If you put the curse on yourself, how is that going to work? Can't you just break it again?"

"It's more complicated than that."

"How?" I prod him.

Baz slicks back his dark hair with both hands. It's long enough now he could tie it up if he wanted. "I can't tell you. It requires the protected subject to break it, and if I told you how, you'd probably break it right now like an idiot just to be nice. And then I’d be free to hurt you."

"You already did hurt me," I remind him.

"I didn't mean to. I thought it would only hurt _me_ to touch _you_." He looks so sorry. He's pulling on his right arm with his left and it's making his biceps flex under the sleeves of his kit.

"Why didn't you do this before? Years ago?"

"Why would I have wanted it before?" he asks, like I've missed something obvious.

"We were fighting," I remind him.

" _Yes_ , but... never mind, Snow. Crowley, you can be thick."

I huff. I want to understand, but I already feel him pulling back. I don't want to push him further away. Then I think it’s probably okay to ask, since he brought it up… "Did it hurt... when I gave you my magic? It hurt Penny."

"No, not at all." He thinks for a moment. "Well, it felt electric, hot, like your magic always does. But it felt good. It felt..." Baz’s grey eyes light up, "like someone opened me up and let the universe in."

He looks at me with his mouth open, and I think I can actually see his fangs. He’s running his tongue over one of them and he looks like he could drink me dry. He looks so _hungry._

"But what if I need to do it again? What if I need to protect you? Or need your help?" Now that I know I can't reach out and grab his hand, it's all I want to do.

Baz sighs. "If it comes to that, I think you'll know what to say to break the spell. If not, I can handle myself. But I'm not planning on being in any life-or-death situations with you anytime soon."

I shrug. "Well, I kind of attract them, so if you're going to keep hanging around me, it's bound to happen again. Fair warning."

Baz laughs. It's nice to see his smile. To _cause_ his smile. Something in my chest tightens.

"If we're going to do this, be on the same side—"

"We're not on the same side," he interjects, and I let it pass.

"—we need to be able to trust one another. I need you to tell me things like this. Penny and I tell each other everything."

Baz licks his bottom lip, "You know that's not going to work. I can't tell you everything. I can't tell you what the Old Families tell me and _you_ can't tell me what the Mage tells you. We both have people we want to protect that the other wants to harm—."

"I don't want to harm anybody," I say. "And those things can be off limits. But everything else, everything between _us_ ," I can see his body go rigid at the word, "needs to be on the table, ok?"

Baz doesn't answer. Just stands up, takes his shirt off and heads to the shower. (I swear he does that now on purpose, takes off his shirt in the middle of a conversation, just because he knows it'll set me going. I think he must be able to hear my heart pound as I watch the muscles of his back work under his grey skin every time he does it.)

I can't believe him. Just when I think we're getting somewhere, he walks away. Is there _anyone_ that he lets in? If he were a normal person, I could ask his mates for advice, but he doesn't even have mates. He has _minions_.

 _And_ _he's got me. Whether he likes it or not, he's got me._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Jesus! Jesus, it's Marvin. Your cousin, _Marvin Christ!_ "
> 
> back to the future, anyone?
> 
> Heyooo again if your haven't read/seen Game of Thrones, Simon is talking about the fact that bastards are all given the same last name since they don't have fathers. Hence John Snow and Ramsey Snow. The book came out the year Simon was born, and now that GoT is popular he wonders if that's why he's named that and if Baz is pointing out that he's a bastard every time he calls him by his last name.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for your comments on the last chapter!! they mean so much to me! you all are too awesome! Q.Q

  ****ANI

            The Normal library is five miles away. If I walked it, it would take almost two hours. My legs are short. But I found a bike in one of the barns, so I can get there in 45 minutes. I'm small enough to squeeze through the gap in the slats on the west side of the barn, and then I just have to **_Eine kleine Mickeymaus_** the bike to fit in my pocket. I take it outside the castle walls and change it back and no one even notices it's missing.

            I go to the Normal library every Saturday at nine to use the internet, then I stop by the post office on my way back to check the PO Box. I need the internet. How else am I going to buy all the supplies we need? I have to account for mistakes, so I've ordered back up of everything. I use dad's credit cards. I rack one up until they close it, and then move on to the next.

            For once, I'm thankful my parents never got married. Then, whenever they figure out my father's dead, they won't go after _her_ for the money. I don't think they'll come after a 13 year old. And besides, who's going to turn me in? The librarian currently too busy flirting with the married IT guy? Or the other one with mustard in his beard, probably from yesterday since it’s nine in the morning? There's no cameras, and I use a fake name to log in to the public computers. Besides, when they find dad's car abandoned in the woods, they'll just assume a local found his wallet and stole the cards.

            I don't buy anything that would give me away. Just what we need. Tools, raw materials, reference manuals... I never Google anything not directly related to our work, and I never check Tumblr or my email, no matter how much I want to. No matter how much a tiny part of me is hoping there's a message from my dad. I know he's gone. He wouldn't have left me his work if he wasn't gone for good.

            The post office has five packages: an engraver in one, and the other four are all silver castings. They're a little heavy to take back today, so I put about ten pounds of it into the safe deposit box I paid for six months in advance. That way, if the cards all go dark at once, I still have a place to stash what I can't carry home.

            This is good. We have enough silver now to start casting, and I found a spell for metalworking yesterday. It's supposed to be for jewellery, but I figure we'll be starting with smaller animals anyway.

            When I get back to school I stash the bike and head to the library, even though Penny won't be here for another hour. I may as well get started practicing the spell. By the time she shows up, I've made a couple two pound bars out of the castings. I have to be careful, because the more you use the spell, the more you work the metal and the weaker it becomes.

            "You got the silver!" Penny says. Sometimes she likes to state the obvious.

            "Yeah, there's a lot more where that came from. I'm going to teach you a spell to shape it. I'm sure you'll do better since you're a seventh year."

            Penny doesn't deny it. "What's this?" she asks, picking up the engraver.

            "An engraver." I thought that was obvious.

            "Yeah, but how are we going to use it? We can't run this in a library."

            I take it back from her. "We're not to that part yet. I just wanted you to see what we've got new this week."

            "Ok, but how _are_ we going to use it? When we get there?"

            I wrinkle my forehead. It's like talking to a three-year-old sometimes with Penny. Too many questions. "We'll do it in my room, of course."

            "Won't your roommate have a fit?"

            "I don't have a roommate," I answer, deadpan.

            Penny's eyes narrow. "The Crucible didn't give you one?"

            I shrug. "There's an odd number of girls in my grade. Someone had to be alone."

            That's not true though. There's an uneven number of girls in third year, and the Crucible made a room for three. I'm not the first to be alone though. I've asked Miss Possibelf about it.

            "Don't you get... lonely?" Penny asks. Her voice is softer now, and there's an emotion there I can't put a name to.

            "I like being alone. I can think clearer."

            I teach her the spell, and Penny practices saying it few times, without magic. I think she’s finally going to try it out, but then she turns back to me and says, "Can I visit you sometimes? In your room? It's just my room gets really crowded. My roommate's girlfriend doesn't seem to have a room."

            My eyes go wide. "When?"

            "I dunno, like maybe, if I'm trying to study and they're being too loud I can come down and knock and if you're busy or whatever that's ok. I'll just come here or something."

            I nod. "That could be cool."

            "Cool." Penny smiles, then tries the spell again, this time with magic. She only has to say it twice, and the silver castings in front of her lift up from the table, swirling and melting into a long thin bar. Just like in my dad's drawings, if a fair bit smaller. It even has the loops on the end for the straps.

            I take a deep breath. "I think it might be time to talk to your friend the werewolf hunter. I think we're going to need a test subject by next full moon."

            Penny raises her eyebrows and beams. "I can ask next Friday. I feel stupid for ever doubting you. The leather is coming—"

            "Next Saturday, yeah." I paid good money for twenty adjustable straps with grommets and belting already set in. It would have been a lot more expensive to do the work ourselves, and I would have felt bad about ruining the leather. An animal shouldn't have to die so I can learn to properly set grommets.

            (We had to go with deer, in the end. Most leatherworkers don't deal in shark.)

            "So are you loaded or what? How can you afford all of this?"

            I can't tell Penny the truth. She _would_ turn me in. Maybe it's wrong, but I don't know how else we would have done this. What's fraud compared with the lives we're going to save? I know my father would have done the same, _was_ doing the same in the end. He knew he was going to die, and he opened all these accounts anyway. Just one more reason to think he meant for me to carry on his work.

            I don't know what to say. There's no way Penny believes I'm loaded. Not when I've worn the same sneakers every day for a year now. Not with these grotty jeans on.

            "My dad took care of that, too," I say. There. I haven't lied. You're not supposed to lie to your friends, and I only have the one.

 

AGATHA

            I'm just leaving the dining hall when a hand grabs my arm and pulls me down a dark hallway. I'm about to scream when his other arm slips around my waist. _Dev._

            "Stop it. You can't just grab me whenever you feel like it."

            "I just did." He grins slyly.

            He leans down to kiss me but I turn my face. "Having fun with that eighth year girl at dinner?"

            He frowns. "We were just talking."

            "And in the library?"

            "Still talking." He tries to lean into me again.

            "And in the White Chapel?" I ask. No one goes to the White Chapel to talk.

            He exhales and sets his jaw. "Whatever. I'm tired of defending myself to you. Did the Golden Boy cheat on you? Is _that_ why you're so insecure?"

            My cheeks flush with colour. He always does this, makes his bad behaviour into one of my faults. Just because _I’m_ insecure doesn't mean he's not a bounder.

            Dev lets me go. His voice goes soft. "Listen, I'm free Friday after classes. I think we should talk then."

            I look up into his brown and gold eyes. He never makes time for me. Is he finally taking this seriously?

            "Alright," I say, and offer my cheek. He brushes his lips against it softly, then rubs his cheek against mine. He always does this. His stubble feels like sandpaper, but I don't mind.

            "See you, kid."

 

MAGGIE

            This arsehole never does what I expect. Just when I think we've got a pattern worked out, and I'll only ever see him at the full moon, Baz is waiting outside the Cloisters for me just before dinner. Like we've got a date I've forgotten about.

            "Here," he says, shoving books into my arms. "Though I warn you, they take a pretty dim view of your condition. You might want to skip any chapters with killing or murder in the title."

            I glance down at the books. They've all got titles like "History of Lycanthropy" or "The Danger in the Moonlight" and look about a hundred years old.

            He nods his head toward the Weeping Tower and slips his hands into the pockets of his uniform. "Walk with me."

            I tuck the books into my bag before anyone sees and do as he asks.

            "Who knows about what happened to you last summer?" he asks.

            Finally. I can prove to him I’m not an absolute idiot. "No one. I haven't told anyone. I know how to keep my trap shut."

            But then he stops walking and looks down at me like I _am_ an idiot. His forehead is wrinkled and he's got one eyebrow arched for emphasis. "You need to tell someone. You need someone you can talk to about this. Someone who can help you when it gets hard."

            I shake my head. "Isn't that you?"

            "Absolutely not."

            "Why not?" I put my hands on my hips. "Don't act like I'm crazy for thinking you're my... cryptid mentor or guru or something."

            "Well, I'm not! I'm your fail-safe. _I'm_ the kill-switch, ok? You need to get that straight, Meg." Baz’s nostrils flare and he’s leaned right into my face. He looks furious, but I’m not scared of him, no matter how much he shouts at me.

            " _Maggie_ ," I insist.

            "It doesn't matter. I can't be your friend _and_ your jailer. Would you rather I braid your hair, or keep doing what I've been doing?"

            I take a deep breath. He can be so irritating. How does Penny stand him?

            "Fine. I'll braid my own hair."

            "That's what I thought. Get a friend." He turns on his heel and stalks away. His legs are so long, I couldn't keep up with his stride if I wanted to. I decide to take the books back to my room instead. Maybe one of the girls will be there and I can tell them. The Crucible wouldn't have put me with two people who would turn me in to the Mage, right?


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gosh there have been so many comments lately! thank you so much for all the encouragement! i'm steadfastly working my way to the end. :)

PENELOPE

            Fridays are becoming my favourite day of the week. It's the only time we're all together (except this week Agatha had something with Dev), and with the added bonus of getting out of my room for a few hours. Not to mention, it's the only time I see Baz and Simon where they're not fighting.

            Baz had his aunt bring us up some books from his home library. We're pouring over descriptions of all the different dark creatures the Humdrum has sent after Simon over the years. We've got a list going, but every so often we'll come across something and remember a whole new attack that we've got to add to the list. I'm standing over Simon's desk adding "flying monkeys, welcome picnic, September 2011" to the list now. It's taking forever, and it’s also keeping Baz distracted from the potential Simon/Humdrum link. _And_ it's actually kind of fun. Like a walk down memory lane, if memory lane were filled with dark creatures and criminals.

            "Did you know this? Pixies shed a dust that makes things levitate?" Baz asks from his side of the room, reading at his desk.

            Simon's lying across his bed, one leg propped on the other, holding out a book above his face. He doesn't even close his book. "Dude, seriously. You had to bring up pixies?"

            "Actually, things are a lot better since Ani's letting me scurry off to her room when the kissing starts. I actually might _not_ kill Trixie before graduation."

            "I don't believe you," Simon says from under his book. "Trixie always finds a way of getting under your skin. I think you’ve got something against pixies in general."

            I put my hands on my hips. "I'm not half as prejudiced as you think I am."

            "And maybe _I'm_ not as proud," Baz answers from behind me. I look over my shoulder, but he's not looking up from his book.

            "Baz, are you a Janeite?" I ask. He likes Romeo and Juliet, it's not surprising that he'd like Jane Austen.

            "No," he dismisses me.

            I cross the room to stand beside him. I lean into his desk; his face isn't giving anything away. "Well that's a shame, really. Pride and Prejudice is the greatest love story of all time. Mr Darcy and Lydia Bennett—"

            "Lizzie," Baz corrects. Then he realizes what he's done.

            "Ha! I knew it!"

            "He's read Twilight, too," Simon adds from his side of the room. I almost forgot he was listening. Sometimes that happens when I'm talking to Baz.

            "Alright, alright, I'm well-read. Have you finished laughing at me for being literate?" Baz asks in a bored tone. I think he likes it though, when we talk about him like this. When we talk about the things we _like_ about him.

            " _'Mr Darcy is not to be teased_ ,'" I quote in a posh voice. Baz's face relaxes and he smiles at me. I can't help but smile back. No offense to Simon, but sometimes I prefer talking to Baz. It's like I've finally got a sparring partner. There's a sort of mental aerobics I miss out on when I'm not at home, or on the phone with Micah. I love Simon and Agatha, but it's not the same. I can't imagine _Simon_ reading Jane Austen. (Though I bet I could get him to watch the movie...) (The Keira Knightly one of course; he hasn't got the stamina for the BBC one.)

            "Do you two want me to leave or?" Simon asks. He's leaned up on his elbows, watching us.

            "Yes," Baz and I answer in unison. I laugh and it comes out as a snort. Simon is rolling his eyes.

            "Bunce isn't my type. No offense, Bunce."

            "None taken." I sit down on Simon's bed and scrunch up my face. " _'I don't like men with too many muscles._ '"

            "Oh, _Janet_ ," Baz answers, and Simon looks at us like we're mad.

            "Rocky Horror?" I ask.

            Simon answers with a question, "What's a Rocky Horror?"

            "Did he just say 'What's a Rocky Horror'?" Baz mocks.

            "Ugh. I'll show you at Christmas." I slap Simon's leg. "Ok, I have to know. Baz. Team Jacob or team Edward? Jacob right?"

            He finally puts his book down and turns to us. "I can't believe you're asking me that. Team nobody, _obviously_. Bella needs a psychologist, and possibly a physical therapist given she's so clumsy. _Not_ a boyfriend. Certainly not one that watches her sleep."

            "Yes but if you _had_ to choose—" I'm smiling mischievously. (If he answers Edward, then at least we know he has a thing for boys with bronze hair...)

            "Ok, Pen, research something or I'm calling the Mage and reporting a strange girl in my room." Simon lays back down and finds his page again.

            I grab the next book on the stack. I feel sheepish. I don't mean to leave Simon out. I'll have to make sure to say something when Baz isn't around. He's not going to replace Simon. For one, I still don't trust him any more than any other handsome devil. And for two, he's not _warm_ like Simon. I bumped Baz's arm during the last full moon babysitting gig and it was ice cold. I shiver just thinking about it.

            "Chilly?" Simon asks, scooting over so his warm side is pressed against me.

            "Yeah, thanks." I answer, peaking over the top of my book at Baz. He's looking out of the corner of his eye at us, and when I catch him he looks back to his book. _There_. It's only every once in a long while, but I definitely still catch Baz looking at Simon when he thinks no one's watching. I shake my head and suppress a smile.

            We end up working until after dark, which is earlier and earlier nowadays. Baz actually walks me back to the Cloisters. I think he's headed to the Catacombs to hunt. Simon says he does it almost every night, but Baz doesn't even mention it. Whatever the reason, I'm glad for a moment alone.

            "How's Simon been?" I ask. It's nice to have another pair of eyes on him. Like, almost always on him, if we're being honest.

            "Fine," he answers quickly. He knows what I mean. "Not perfect, but better. No nightmares. Magic has been under control, outside of when we fight. But I think..."

            "What?"

            "I think he's starting to be able to calm it, when we're fighting. It feels different, doesn't it?" He narrows his grey eyes at me. He's right, it does. Less erratic. Less... intoxicating. It feels like a warm blanket or a cosy fireplace. It's still distracting, mind you, but not like before where it set you on edge, made you twitch.

            "I know what you mean. Do you think other people have noticed?"

            "To be perfectly honest, I don't even think Snow has noticed. I think you and I have only caught on because we've felt his magic more than anyone else."

            "Well, I have something else to ask you. We might need his help next Thursday—."

            "No."

            "Now wait, the moon will be up for 15 hours, we can't split that up between the two of us. Ani and I are almost finished with a test harness. The final touches will go on tomorrow, so we could be ready to test that night, with his help."

            "I said no, Penny."

            I freeze. Baz doesn't call me Penny. _Ever_.

            He realizes I've stopped walking and stops himself. "You don't see how he looks in the moonlight. He can't take it, Bunce. It's too much. I'll find someone else. Wellbelove—?"

            "Is not going to babysit a werewolf with us." I shake my head. She’s agreed to research, but she’s done with fighting. I think she’s gotten too used to not being afraid for her life.

            "Then I'll find someone. But not Snow. Not yet."

            I never see Baz look worried like this, or express _any_ emotion except disdain. _It's weirding me the fuck out._

            "Just tell him," I say, exasperated.

            Baz looks confused. I'm so sick of dancing around this.

            "You know what I mean, just tell him." I cross my arms. It's cold out so no one's on the grounds to hear us. "He told me about your curse, you wouldn't have done that to yourself if you didn't still care. And he might not see the way you still look at him, but I do."

            "Stop that. You two don't get to talk about me."

            "Why not? We're talking about him." I raise my eyebrows and lean forward, gesturing back and forth between us.

            Baz grimaces. "That's different. It's for his own good."

            "Believe me, this is for _your_ own good."

            "Why do you want this so badly?” He’s practically snarling. “Is it a game to you? Because it's not a game, Bunce. Not to me. And if it were, I'd always lose. Has he told you he wants to be with me?" His breath is coming out in short little puffs of white.

            I don't know what to say. Simon did say that, at the beginning of the school year, but then I told him to play it cool. We haven’t talked about it since. And besides, Simon would kill me for telling Baz about that...

            " _Exactly_. You don't know what he wants anymore than he does. And if he's not sure, if he changes his mind—" he tilts his chin up, takes a breath, clears his face of emotion. "Why are you doing this? Encouraging this?"

            "I want you two to be happy—"

            "Happy?" He spits the word like a curse, like it's full of dark magic. He starts ticking things out on his fingers. "My family despises him, the Mage wants him to kill me—" I didn't know Baz knew about that. "Dev will make sure I'm disowned, the Old Families will send someone else after him, someone who’s actually trying, and none of this is to speak of the war that's coming or," he leans down close to me and his voice drops to a hiss, "the fact that I'm the only person who can use his magic without him burning their flesh off! You're telling me to risk all that, risk becoming a weapon against him, on the off chance that this might mean something to him, too? Bunce, if you really cared about him you'd tell me to jump in a lake."

            "'Too.'"

            "What?" he barks.

            "You said _'too'_. It means something to you."

            "Aleister Crowley. Bunce, are you even listening?"

            "Clearly! I heard you say 'too.'" I hold my hand out palm up. "Exhibit A, Mr Pitch."

            Baz throws his arms up in the air. "I can’t talk to you. You hero types always think love conquers all." He stiffens, and catches my eye. I can't help but beam. "You know I didn't mean it like that."

            "Whatever you say." I put my hands up in defence. "I won't meddle, Morgana, it's not my secret to tell. But if that's how you feel, then for heaven's _snakes_ , why shouldn't it conquer all?"

            Baz takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, "I don't know why I even try. It’s been a real treat, Bunce. Just a lovely time."

            He turns toward the Catacombs. I almost forgot. "What about Ani? Can we test the harness Thursday?"

            "Yes. Bring her along. The sooner you get that working the sooner we can quit babysitting."


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i'm probably going to finish writing in the next couple of days. I'll update every day from here on out. :)

SIMON

            Sometimes Baz gives me the signal for no reason at all. He'll walk by my desk and… _tap tap_. Or I'll watch him at practice (I don't play now, since I can't risk bumping into him), and if he scores a goal, there it is: _tap tap_. No one knows about it but us, not even Penny.

            I wonder if he even knows he's doing it. He never checks that I'm looking first, unless we’re fighting. Maybe it’s a force of habit.

_Does it mean he's thinking of me?_

            We're sitting in our room one night, and it happens again. Baz is working on a new spell. ( ** _Jesus Walks_ ,** like the Kanye song. It's for crossing the moat on babysitting nights. Penny taught him it, but he wasn’t getting it until she played him the song about a hundred times Monday night.) I’m just drying my hair after my shower. I've got the towel over my head, vigorously attacking my curls, and I hear him clear his throat. I look, and he's facing me, rolling up his sleeves. He's not looking _at_ me exactly, just sort of spacing out, and then he does it.

_Tap tap._

            "Why did you do that?" I ask suddenly, startling him a little.

            "Do what?" He frowns and looks at me directly.

            "You signalled. You signalled like we're fighting, but we're not fighting."

            "I didn't."

            "You did." I nod.

            He looks unhappy. I _tap tap_ back, and try a half smile, but he turns back to his desk and scoops up his wand again.

            "Were you thinking about me?" I ask.

            "No, I was thinking about tomorrow night." Baz is chewing his lip. Maybe he’s worried.

            "Who's helping babysit with you?" I ask.

            "Bunce, Dev..." He's hesitant. No one would bother me more than Dev, except maybe Agatha. But then, she's so distant at our Mageling meetings that I’m not really worried she has feelings for Baz anymore. I’m more just worried about her in general.

            "That's good. About five-hour shifts each then?" I’ve been looking up the moonrise and set times just like the rest of them, even if Baz insists I don’t go.

            "There's some overlap, so more like six."

            I wish I could help. Between the Humdrum being eerily quiet and the Mage off dealing with goblins alone, there's not been much for me to do. Except homework. In fact, it's been so long since the Mage has confided anything in me at all, I'm starting to wonder if the leprechaun outing was meant as a goodbye. The Mage still calls on me to see how I'm doing, but that's it. (Maybe I'm over-thinking it. He was busy last year, too.)

            In any case, I'm itching for a fight. But I'm worried if I see Maggie change, I'll go off without meaning to. I think that’s what Baz is afraid of, too. Baz says I'm getting better at controlling it, my magic, but sometimes I still feel it. Buzzing right there, below the surface, ready to snap out and hurt someone, like a static charge. It feels like the longer I go without going off, the more it builds up. Like I'm scooting my socks over the carpet, just waiting for the perfect doorknob.

            And I’m not getting much better in classes. I still can’t draw it up when I want, not in the right amounts.

            I go back to drying my hair, but Baz is staring at me again. “Stop that. Why do you do that? It drives me mad.”

            “Dry my hair?”

            “ _By hand_.” Baz is insistent. “Let me teach you a spell for it, _please_.”

            “I know the spell, it never works right. My hair’s too curly or something.” I’m running my hands through my hair now, trying to get it to lie flat. (He’s making me self-conscious.)

            “Do you think _Bunce_ air dries her hair? Or Maggie? Chomsky, she’s a third year and she gets it!” He raises an eyebrow. “Let me try it.”

            Baz has never done magic on me before that wasn’t to hurt me. His magic burns. I haven’t felt it in a long time, but I remember.

            My voice drops low. “Why?”

            Baz closes his eyes and shakes his head. “Because when you do it like that, you make the whole room smell like you.”

_Oh, right. Super smell._

            “Sorry,” I say. He catches the disappointed look on my face, and he softens a little.

            “It smells _good_. Like… it makes me hungry.” My face must light up because Baz crosses his arms defiantly and adds, “Don’t get excited, everyone smells like a meal to me.”

            “You can do the spell,” I say. 

            He hesitates, but then Baz uncrosses his arms and levels his wand at me. **“ _Dry as a bone.”_**

            It feels like someone’s poured scalding hot water over my head, but it feels good, in that way that pain can sometimes feel good. Then the wet feeling goes away completely, and I’m just warm. I touch my hair. It’s softer than usual, and not fluffy and weird like when I do the spell. Baz isn’t looking at me anymore, he’s pulling on a jacket.

            “Where are you going?” I ask, sure he won’t tell me.

            “To eat,” he answers. And I know he doesn’t mean food.

 

MAGGIE

            I can tell the girl in the grade above me, Ani, is nervous, because she keeps repeating everyone’s instructions for tonight like it’s a spell she’s memorizing.

            “Pitch brings the deer, Maggie bites the deer, we put the harness on, Maggie goes in the cave, the moon rises, we watch the deer, Pitch kills the deer. If necessary.” She keeps adding that: _if necessary._ It sounds so ominous, it sends a shiver up my spine.

            It's so cloudy and gloomy it feels like the sun has gone down even though it's just now four o’clock.

            "How does that thing even work?" I ask. I point at the weird contraption Penny has slung over her shoulder. "Is it magic, or what?"

            "Well, it's a mix of things, really." Penny starts to turn the thing over in her hands, showing me all the different parts. "The silver, well you know werewolves are allergic. And then there's containment spells carved in it and written all over the straps."

            "And the ink," Ani adds, then goes right back to chanting.

            "Right. The ink is made from a flower that is sometimes used to make tea that calms were beasts. Then there's the sunstone—."

            "Which we only have one of, so we can't let anything happen to it," Ani chimes in again. All of that sounds pretty harmless, like it might as well be an herbal remedy, _except_ the silver. I can't touch anything silver now, even when I'm not transformed. It burns.

            Baz finally meets up with us with a deer already in tow, leading it with his wand like he does this all the time. It's young, maybe not a year old. Baz says it's best for the population if we stick to taking only the young, the old, and the sick.

            Now I'll have to bite it. It's weird doing it when I'm not Turned. (And with everyone watching.) Even though that's what happened to me: bit by a perfectly normal sheep and then the next moon I Turned.

            The deer tastes kind of like pollen and wet dog and I have to tuck my tongue way back to keep from getting its fur in my mouth. I still do, though. I have to bite until I taste blood...

            The deer is calm though. Whatever spell Baz has got on it makes it so docile I think I could ride it. I don't try. I've done my part. I go into the cave, though it's still ten minutes to moonrise. It's so cold out there. What if it rains? Are they going to be alright all night like that, watching the deer?

            "Don't forget the light this time," I remind Baz. He casts it now and it rises up into the ceiling of the cave. I sit beneath it. I can already feel it…

_I want it. It's calling me._

            "Shut me in!" I snap.

            Baz does and the darkness closes in. But I have my light. I have the moon here with me.

 _Why can't I reach it?_ It's too bloody high. I can't ...  I can't touch it... I need it. _I need it._

 

PENELOPE

            Maggie howls from inside the cave and we all shiver, and _not_ from the cold. The deer could Turn any minute. Whenever Maggie's venom or magic or virus or whatever hits its heart, Baz says. I **_Up, up and away_** the harness over it and **_Keep it secret, keep it safe_** the lock Ani got at the Tesco's in town. We all hear it click just as Baz casts a barrier around the deer.

            "Can't be too careful," he says. But it's not necessary. We can see the deer changing, crouching lower on its haunches, growing larger; its fur becoming shaggier, blacker; its eyes—

            And then it's dead. It falls to the ground with a heavy _thunk_ and there's steam pouring off it where the harness meets its skin.

            I gasp out, "Morgana's tooth!" and Baz lets out a whistle, but Ani is silent.

            "A bit too much, you think?" Baz raises his eyebrows.

            "I don't know what we've done wrong. We've done everything your dad said."

            "Maybe it only works on humans," Baz suggests.

            I shake my head. "We're not testing it on humans until we make sure it works."

            "What if I find you a really mean one?" Baz offers. "We could find whoever bit Meg."

            "Maggie," I say, but Ani says at the same time, "Sheep."

            Baz and I give her twin looks of confusion.

            "My dad tested on sheep."

            "Maggie was bitten by a sheep." I _thought_ that was strange. She was bitten within twenty miles from where the ram attacked Simon and me last year.

            "How do you know that?" Baz asks.

            "I asked." I shrug.

            "Stop fraternizing with the prisoner!” he fumes. “You're too soft for this."

            "You _knew_ that when you asked me to help." I put my hands on my hips and toss a purple lock of hair out of my eyes. "Besides, _I'm_ not the one who calls her little puff."

            "You call a werewolf little puff?" Ani cuts in. "I thought you were a vicious killer!"

            Baz looks angry, or hurt. (I can never tell with him.) He sets his jaw. "I'm not a killer."

            Ani stands as tall as she can, throwing her arms wide, making little fists with her hands. It's surprisingly intimidating, even with her fringe in her eyes. "You killed my father!"

            Baz and I are both taken aback. _Has she thought that this whole time?_ No wonder she wanted Simon to help with the research, but has been on edge ever since I picked her up tonight.

            "Ani, _Simon_ killed your father. And he didn't know who he was. Your dad was attacking them. He didn't have a choice. He went off."

            She looks back and forth from me to Baz like it's a trick. I notice she's shaking in her duffle coat, but she's still got her arms out, her fists tight.

            "Ani—"

            She looks down and shakes her head, letting out a noise halfway between a yell and a sob. I reach out to put a hand on her shoulder, but before I can she looks up and wipes her nose with a fist. "Sheep," she says again. "We need to use sheep."

            "There's goats," Baz offers, still looking confused.

            "Are they similar enough?” I ask. “And can we get Maggie to bite it now?"

            Baz strokes his chin thoughtfully. "Whatever we put in there with her is not going to come out intact enough to put a harness on."

            "We try again next month," Ani barks. "I'll handle the sheep. Now drop your barrier so I can get the harness."

            Baz obeys and she unlocks the harness from the smoking corpse. She needs my help to roll the deer out of it. As soon as it’s free, she heads off. I chase after.

            "Bunce! It's your shift first!" Baz calls.

            "Hang on!" I shout back.

            "Ani," I reach out to grab her, but I stop myself. I know better than to do that now. "I'm sorry we didn't tell you. We thought you knew."

            "What does it matter, Pitch or Snow? He's still dead." Her voice is harsh and cold.

            "I know, but it upset you."

            "No, I'm upset because I didn't know. I didn't know and it was _fine_. But _you_ had to tell me! Everyone knows what it’s like when Simon goes off, and now...”

            “I thought you’d _want_ to know! _I’d_ want to know,” I say in my defence.

            “Not everyone’s you, Penny! Knowing doesn’t bring him back. It just means that now, whenever I think about it, I’ll know exactly how horrible it was!” She’s crying now. I don’t know what to do. I want to hug her, but she doesn’t like to be touched. I want to say it’s ok, but it’s not…

            “Bunce,” Baz is right behind me. Merry Morgana, he’s so _quiet_. “Dead parents is my field of expertise, go back and babysit.”

            He lights me a fire and tosses it over his shoulder. I only just catch it. They’re already making their way back through the Wood. I find my way back to the cave and spot the deer still lying there, black and twisted and creepy. The corpse stinks like tea leaves when I burn it.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short one today, friends! tusen takk for all your wonderful comments! <3

BAZ

            Bunce is almost asleep by the time I get back. I scold her, it’s not even ten o’clock.

            “What do you want from me? I was up late finishing the harness. Besides, you and I both know your spell will hold fine.” She’s rubbing one of her eyes, and almost drops the fire I gave her right in her lap.

            I send her home. She’s supposed to stay another hour, but after our last conversation, I’d rather not have the alone time. Really, Dev should have had the second shift, since I’m going to have to come back in the morning to get Maggie out. But the only thing I want less than to have a heart to heart with Bunce is for Dev to have one with her.

            The next five hours crawl by. Especially since Maggie keeps howling every ten minutes or so, setting me on edge. I catch a few squirrels and dump their bodies in the ravine. It starts to rain and I have to cast **_Rain, rain, go away_ ** on myself.

            Dev shows up late, after three in the morning. “That spell you gave me didn’t work. I couldn’t cross the moat until I walked halfway ‘round the castle and found a punt.”

            I wouldn’t have asked Dev at all, but even though he’s not a fantastic magician, he’s still better than Niall. And more ruthless. If things went sour, I could trust Dev to do what’s necessary. And the more I keep Dev in the loop, the less suspicious he is of me.

            “It smells like shit. Is that her?” he asks.

            I nod.

            “What do I do when the moon goes down? Kiss her awake?” Dev smirks.

            “No. Wait for me. I’ll get her out.” She must be able to hear us, because this sets the beast howling again. I sneer. “Does Wellbelove enjoy those kind of jokes?”

            “No. That’s why I ended it. Always getting jealous over nothing.” He pulls out a pack of Marlboro 100s, taps one out and lights it. “Want one?”

            I take the pack from him and light my own. Crowley, I missed this. Why didn’t I buy any before I came back to school?

            “Yeah, but it wasn’t _nothing_ , was it? Niall says it’s not nothing. You’re going to burn through all the seventh year girls if you’re not—.”

            “Too late,” Dev answers, the cigarette still between his lips.

            It’s fucking frigid out. I want to go. Want to be warm. Don’t want to be talking to Dev about all the girls he’s used. Don’t want to care that Dev’s been treating Wellbelove like rubbish. Want to get some sleep. Want to check on Snow…

            “You’re disgusting,” I say, and Dev laughs. Even when I’m telling the truth he thinks I’m joking. I have to stay. Have to pretend I’m enjoying this.

            “So is this what you’re up to all the time? Instead of hanging out with Niall and me?”

            “No, I’ve been studying. Have you heard of it?” I blow smoke.

            “But it is why Bunce is in your room every Friday.”

            I drag on the cigarette again. _So you’ve been watching me, you actual bastard._ “No, we’re fucking. Snow watches and cries. It’s her kink.”

            Dev laughs his deep-throated laugh and I smile like I’m enjoying this. There was a time when I would have. Shitting on Bunce and Snow was almost too easy.

            “Look, you don’t have to worry. This,” I gesture toward the howling behind us, “isn’t interfering with my work for the Families.”

            “Good,” he says, then raises an eyebrow. “But is the fucking interfering?”

            I bark out a laugh. “You worry about your own mission. Tell me if you need any help. But not now ‘cause I’m knackered.”

            I stand to go and make Dev a flame. I drop it into his outstretched hand “Don’t burn yourself.”

            I wondered if **_Jesus Walks_** wouldn’t work for Dev because it was raining, but I have no problem getting back across the moat. Bunce says you have to be righteous for it to work, but that’s obviously tosh. It works just fine for me.

* * *

            Snow and I both sleep through the night. That's new. He even wakes me before my alarm, putting on his shoes noisily. I don't think there's anything he can't do noisily. The moon won't set until 7:30. Snow must be getting breakfast.

            He notices I'm up and says, "Come on, Pitch. I'm coming with you."

            "No," I say firmly. I'm using the heels of my hands to rub the sleep out of my eyes.

            "Yes, I am. I want to help you. I want to help." He's grabbing my jacket for me, but I don't even have trousers on yet.

            "Stop. I mean it. You _can't_ come. Dev had the last shift, not Bunce."

            He looks crestfallen. He lays my jacket over the back of my chair and sits back down on his bed. "How'd the harness go?"

            "It worked fantastically well if you like dead deer." I answer. Snow looks a little hopeful at this. "You're _not_ coming next month."

            "Why? Wouldn't you rather have me than Dev?" As soon as he's asked it, I can see he regrets it. He’s realized he doesn’t want to know the answer to that.

            I exhale and throw the covers off. I should get going. "It doesn't matter, Snow. I can't risk it."

            "I feel better, though." Snow makes a small noise in his throat. "You're helping me feel better. Let me help you."

            "Only if we have no other option. And know that I'm only saying that so you'll drop it."

            Snow beams and my stomach lurches. _Shit._ This is all Bunce's fault. I was doing fine until she started meddling. I grab my coat and go.

            The rope ladder we use to get in and out is on top of the ramparts, not down on the ground where I left it for Dev. It's not really a ladder, that's just what it's called. It's a piece of rope that with the right spell forms a sort of staircase in the air. It only works because it doesn't touch the ramparts at all while in use. Otherwise, the castle would just throw it off, part of the Mage's defences. I got it from Fiona when I realized we were going to have to do this in shifts. She probably thinks I’m using it in some plot against the Mage.

            It takes some serious guts to use it though. It's like walking a tightrope thirty feet in the air, with nothing but your own magic and quick thinking to break your fall should you slip. It may take a great deal less magic than **_Float like a butterfly_** , but it takes a lot more nerve.

            When I get back to the cave, Dev is nowhere to be found. Judging by the cigarette butts, he smoked the whole pack, got bored and left. I check my watch and Maggie's been back for ten minutes now. I cover my nose and mouth, pull my wand from my jacket pocket, and set her free.

            "Was it better with the light?" I ask. She's got her arms wrapped tight around herself. She nods, but doesn't say anything else. She looks frozen through. I think she probably needs body heat, and then I think, _If only Snow were here_. Then I chastise myself for wishing he were here, regardless of the reason.

            When we get to the drawbridge, Maggie's roommates are waiting with blankets and food. I want to tell them off for drawing attention to us coming back, but I don't. I just head back to Mummer's House for a shower.

            I thought by now Snow _must_ have gone to breakfast, so my stomach gives another turn when I open the door and he's still here. _What are you waiting for?_ I want to shout at him.

            "Was she ok?" Snow asks.

            "Yes. The little beast is in good hands." I start taking my jacket off, and toe out of my shoes, even though it'll stretch them. I've had three hours of sleep and I smell _were_ , I don't even care anymore. If Snow doesn't get out now I'm going to undress right in front of him.

            "Did Dev bail?" he asks.

            I freeze, not looking at him, my hands on the hem of my shirt. "How did you—?"

            "Because it's _Dev_ , he's an arsehole. He's chucked Agatha, you know? _Agatha!_ " Snow has this incredulous look on his face that I want to wipe right off it, so I pull my shirt over my head. When I realized I could do this, shut Snow up just by undressing in front of him, I decided I better only use it when absolutely necessary. When I look at him again, he's holding his breath, face expressionless. His eyes have settled somewhere around my sternum. I start to unbutton my trousers, and up he goes, trying not to look at me as he grabs his bag and heads out the door.


	17. Chapter 17

BAZ

            Christmas break can’t come soon enough. I was fine before Bunce started meddling. I knew what I wanted, what _had_ to be done. I was back to myself again, shutting down and shutting out everything I felt, focusing on the mission. Now she’s got me questioning my every decision. _Now_ she’s got me looking for anything, any sign…

            Maybe I’m imagining it. I _hope_ I’m imagining it…

_He let me do magic on him. He must trust me if he let me do magic on him._

            I need to get out of here. Out of this room. I just need to get through tonight, then it's just thirteen days until I can go back to Hampshire where nothing reminds me of Snow. I’ve been avoiding him like the plague, outside of Magelings meetings. Which, as it happens, are going nowhere. We’ve learned nothing but a bunch of useless facts about beasts we’re not likely to ever fight again, since Snow says the Humdrum never does the same thing twice. That’s the only real lead I think we have. It’s the only thing we know about the _personality_ of the Humdrum, whoever it is.

            Tonight is the last full moon before break, and the longest full moon of the year. We’re going to have to watch Maggie for sixteen hours. I can’t do it without Snow’s help.

* * *

            “No. Sod that.” Snow crosses his arms. He’s not giving an inch.

            “Which part?” I ask.

            “All of it. No way.”

            “Those are my two conditions: you have to agree to do everything I say without question, and we need to steal a goat.” Ani didn’t make good on her promise of procuring sheep, so this is our best option. I stand up straight, using all three inches of my height over Snow to show him I mean business. “That’s the deal. You either agree, or Bunce and I go out there alone for the whole night.”

            He looks away, thinking. Weighing his options. He’s going to be even more unhappy when he realizes I’m not letting him go anywhere alone.

 

SIMON

            Baz must be enjoying this, making me feel like I’m eleven all over again. I’ve been through more fights than he has, with no one telling me what to do. (Except Penny. And sometimes the Mage.) And it’s really not right to take one of Ebb’s goats. She’s going to be so upset. But what choice do I have?

            I’m tired of feeling useless. I don’t know what more I can do to prove myself. The nightmares are (mostly) under control, and I haven’t gone off since May. This might be my only shot to show him I can handle it.

            “Fine. I’ll do it. I’m in.” I answer and Baz sneers.

            “Good. We’ll take the second shift, midnight to eight.” he says.

 _We?_ He doesn’t trust me. He thinks I’m going to hurt someone. Hurt Maggie.

 

BAZ

            “You think I can’t handle babysitting alone? Are you serious?” Snow is challenging me already. This is not going to work.

            “Look, this is my bag, okay? When we fight the Humdrum, you can call the shots. But that girl is my responsibility. If anything happens to her, it’s on my head.” He can’t argue with that. “So you’ll do what I ask.”

            Snow nods.

            “And if anything happens, you’re to put up a barrier and send a bird, alright? Bunce has the same orders.”

            He hesitates, but nods again.

            Good. This is the only way I can make sure he’s safe. If he’s with me and the moonlight or the howling gets to be too much, I can talk him down. I can protect him _and_ Maggie. I can protect them both.

 

PENELOPE

            Ani is pacing in front of the cave mouth. It’s driving me bananas. We’ve gone over the specs a thousand times, and fixed the problem with the ink. (We used way too much wolfsbane when making the ink last time. It was supposed to be ten parts per million, not 100. It was _ten times_ too potent.) The harness _should_ work. The hardest part— the research, the design— her dad took care of all that. Everything should go perfectly this time.

            The only possible complication is Simon. He has almost as bad a reaction to moonlight as Maggie. Baz thinks tonight will help, though. He says it’s just like cognitive behavioural therapy: Simon can help to set up the harness test, and if he can handle it, Baz will bring him back with him at midnight. If not, Baz can take him back to Mummer’s House and calm him down before his shift starts. If it’s too much, we can just try again next month.

            Except, cognitive behavioural therapy requires the subject feel safe when exposed to the triggering object. Does Simon feel safe with Baz?

            At least I’ll be here. I know he feels safe with me.

            They show up at four sharp: Baz, Maggie, Simon, and the goat. Simon looks guilty leading the goat to the slaughter, but it was either that or we take a month off while we try to find some sheep.

            “Alright, do your worst, Marjie.” Baz gestures toward the goat.

            Maggie rolls her eyes, but obliges, biting the goat deep in its neck. Simon’s calming spell holds and the little thing doesn’t even flinch.

            “I can’t wait ‘till I don’t have to do this anymore.” she says, spitting blood, and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

            “Took the words right out of my mouth.” Baz waves her into the cave and makes her a ball of light.

            “Wait! I’ve still got ten minutes!” she protests, but Baz ignores her and seals the cave.

            “We’re not taking any chances tonight. Lang, harness. Bunce, seal up the goat.” Baz orders.

            I roll my eyes. He’s nicer when Simon’s not around. ( _Slightly_.)

            We do as he asks and Baz lights a fire. It’s not freezing yet, but it will be. The next ten minutes crawl by. No one’s talking. I think they’re all too nervous. Even Baz. He keeps twirling his wand, won’t put it away. The only sound is the little goat bleating in the bubble I’ve made for it.

            Then the moon rises (we can all hear Maggie’s howl) and a little while later the goat changes, just like the deer last time: black fur, red fangs, nearly a foot taller...

            Except this time it just… _stands there._ Looking furry and fangy and creepy, but not doing much of anything but blinking. And it's definitely _alive_. Ani looks nervously at me and I flash her a smile.

            “Is it working?” she asks.

            “Well, it’s not dead yet, so that’s an improvement.” I hold out my ring hand. “Should I drop the shield, see what it does?”

            “No,” Baz answers with her.

            “Let’s give it some time.” Ani says, scribbling down in her notebook everything that’s happened so far.

            Five o’clock comes and goes. The goat looks a little bored, but that’s it. The howling doesn't seem to be fazing Simon at all, so that's good. We’re all sitting in a ring around the fire now, and I’m worried Simon and Baz won’t get enough sleep if they don’t head back soon.

            “Can we see what it does now?” I ask again. Ani chews her lip and looks at Baz.

            Baz stands up and lights a fire in his palm. Shadows dance on his face. “Let’s go.”

            “No,” Ani puts her book down and stands, too. “Not fire. We can’t damage the harness if it’s actually working.”

            Ani looks up into Baz’s eyes, and they nod at one another. She looks almost comically small next to him.

            “Go ahead, Penny.” Ani says.

            I break the barrier and nothing happens. Baz puts his hand on the back of the goats head, and it shakes him off, but doesn’t bite. He gives Ani a half smile and raises an eyebrow. “Good job, little Lang. You’re going to put me out of business.”

            Ani lets a ghost of a smile slip, and then goes back to scribbling in her notebook. Baz puts his hand out to the goat, and it tries to nip at him, but Baz pulls easily away.

            “So it still wants flesh?” I ask. I walk down below the fire so I can look into the goats menacing but placid face. I wish we had a subject we could talk to, but I’m still nervous about trying the harness on a human. (At least not one I like.)

            “I don’t think so, he was doing that to Baz in the hills, too.” Simon answers.

            I laugh. “So it just doesn’t like Baz. Understandable.”

            Baz begins to say something sarcastic back, but then something happens. Maggie's howling is cut short. We all turn to look at the cave, and Baz takes the goat by the neck. There’s silence for a second, then a weird sort of sucking noise. We watch as Baz’s spell reverses, the vines slinking backwards like snakes retreating underground, rocks grinding and scraping back into place.

            “What in Stevie Nicks—” I start to ask, but then I feel it: the scratchy, dry pull of it.

_No. Not now._

            I look to Simon, and he’s gone white as a visitor. I look to Baz just as he snaps the goat’s neck.

            “Get the harness!” he commands me. And then he moves so fast I can barely make sense of it. He throws Simon back, and then he’s running full tilt for the mouth of the cave, and he gets there just as Maggie, _were_ Maggie, comes leaping through the retreating barrier.

            I bend over the goat and frantically try to undo the lock. I can hear Simon shouting. “Baz! It’s the Humdrum! This is _my_ fight!” and Ani just screaming in general.

            My heart is pounding. I could undo the lock in a second if I had my magic, but my fingers feel stupid and panicked. I can’t get it fast enough.

            Baz is losing his fight with Maggie. She’s got his left arm in her teeth and is trying to remove it from its socket. They’re the same height now, but she has a lot of weight on him.

            “I’m going to run!” Baz grits his teeth in pain. “She’ll follow. Give the harness to Snow, I’m going to draw her out of the dead spot. Protect Ani.”

            “We can’t put the harness on her,” Ani cries.

            Baz can’t hold on much longer. He’s pulling Maggie’s jaws apart with his fingers, slipping his arm free, her fangs turning his right hand red, red, red….

            “It’s this or I kill her!” he shouts, and with all his strength he throws Maggie to the ground. “The drawbridge is down.”

            I look back down at my hands. _What the hell am I doing?_ I turn the dial and the lock snaps open. I grasp one side of the harness and kick the goat over, but when I look up I can just see Baz disappearing into the trees. Maggie looks for a second like she’s going to go after Simon instead, but Baz calls back over his shoulder: “Meg! Fucking _eat me_!”

            I swear I see every one of her sharp red teeth. She bolts into the forest, away from the castle. I throw the harness to Simon, and all I can do is hope my friends can outrun a werewolf.


	18. Chapter 18

SIMON

            My lungs are fire. I don’t know how long I’ve been running, but I know I'm headed in the right direction. The beast is tearing its way through the forest. I just follow the debris. And when I get close enough, the sounds: a snarl, a whimper, both from Maggie, Baz shouts, and then a howl. I'm afraid I'm too late and then, when I think my heart is going to burst before I can reach them, I see Baz's fire come back to him. I'm close enough to hear him cry, " _Yes_!" when my own magic comes back like a freight train hitting a bag of garbage. I feel split open.

            But I can't stop. Baz is pinning the beast— not the beast, Maggie— to a tree. He's straining and as soon as she catches sight of me, she rears back to be free of him. I hear the tree crack and it starts to fall back towards me, right on top of them.

            I can't think of the words fast enough, all I manage is **_Up_** — and the tree sails away in a high arc. It lands with a crash somewhere nearby. Maggie scrambles to her feet first, ready to leap at me on all fours. Baz picks himself up and lunges, grabbing her around her thick black neck.

            "Harness!" he shouts.

            I rush forward to put it on her, but Baz yells "No!"

            “Let me help! Tell me how to break the spell!”

            “ _No!”_ Baz says through clenched teeth.

            He rolls and pulls Maggie with him, slamming her into a fallen tree that shatters to splinters at the impact. He's breathing out white clouds and for a wild moment I think it's smoke before I realize it's bitterly cold out. Baz points his wand at the harness and says, **_Up, up and away_** and it whips right out of my hand. Before he's even caught it, he’s casting again: **_"You shall not pass!"_**

            His magic washes over me like a back draft. I'm trapped. The barrier forms around me just as Maggie clamps her fangs down on Baz's outstretched arm. I see his wand fall to the ground.

            "No! Let me fight! Baz! Baz!" I'm screaming so loud my voice is cracking. It's all I can do in here. My magic's out of control. I'm going to go off, and I don't know what it'd do to me to go off in here. I can't focus my magic, I can't press through the barrier. I can only watch.

            Baz is rolling around on the ground. He and Maggie are just black shadows in the moonlight. He shoots fire just past her muzzle and in the blue light I can see black running down his face.

_Blood._

            "Baz!" I pound my fists against the barrier and it trembles, but holds. I call my sword even though it's pointless. "Let me out!"

            I think for a second he's got the upper hand, he's climbed onto Maggie's back and I think he's choking her with the harness, but then she slams him backward in to the ground and then they both go still.

            I'm screaming his name, over and over. I can't see. I can't. Maggie's chest is rising and falling, and the harness is there, burning an X into her shining fur. But where's Baz?

            The barrier pops and Maggie turns, red eyes trained on me, lip curled.

            "Shit!" I hear Baz hiss and I can breathe again. "Snow, she's after your magic. Can't you feel it?"

            I can. She’s like a black hole drawing at me, _tearing_ at me…

            "You need to switch off! Power down!" I can see Baz is holding onto Maggie by the harness. He's got his injured arm wound in the straps and the combined strength of the harness's magic and all his muscle is barely enough to hold her back.

            "I have to run," I say.

            "No! She'll chase you," he grunts; it's too much. "Think of the bloody ocean."

            I think of Baz. I think of him being ripped to pieces if I don't keep it together. I think of going off. Of turning Maggie to dust. I take my head in my hands and just scream. The air pops with my magic. It sounds like fireworks right in my ears.

            Baz cries out in pain as Maggie scrambles for me.

_Five senses._

            I think of Baz.

            I think of his eyes, the colour of deep water.

            I think of the scent of wood and oranges, his showers in the morning filling the room with it.

            I think of his voice when he says my name, not Snow, but Simon, soft and low and secret.

            I think of his cool hand in mine, the slick softness of his hair.

            I think of the taste of the underside of his tongue...

            I'm on the ground. I must have fallen to my knees. I can hear Baz catching his breath, Maggie whining. I feel... nothing. My magic has burned right out of me. I feel singed, but clean… like a cauterized wound. I look up.

            Maggie is scrambling, trying to howl, still searching. For magic? For the moon? I don't know. But not for flesh.

            "You fucking did it," Baz says between breaths.

            " _You_ fucking did it," I say back.

            He shakes his head, his black hair like spilled ink in the moonlight. "I don't have the lock, I'm holding it closed. I need you to find Penny."

            "Okay," I stand, my legs shaking. I grin. "Stay here."

            "Ha fucking ha, Snow," Baz answers, but he's smiling triumphantly back.

* * *

            I find Penny and Ani back near the drawbridge. She's holding her ring hand in the air, just in case Baz and I have failed. When I break free of the trees she gasps, "For heaven's snakes, Simon! What happened?"

            I’m breathless. "It worked. Maggie's fine, Baz is fine. Come back with me, we need to lock her back in."

            "It worked?" Ani asks from behind Penny's still outstretched arm.

            I nod. "Yeah. Come on."

            But Ani falls to the ground, sobbing. Penny looks as confused as I feel. She tosses me the lock and says, "I'll meet you back at the cave. Is the Humdrum—?”

            "Gone, I think. I can't feel it."

            Once Baz leads Maggie back to the cave, he seals it again and finally let's Penny heal his arms and face. She’s quite good at **_Get well soon_** , she's had a lot of practice on me.

            "I'll stay, you head back. The drawbridge is still down," Penny says, and Baz and I both shake our heads.

            "I'm staying," Baz says. "If that happens again—"

            "The Humdrum never does the same thing twice. Besides, you two are a wreck. You couldn't take out a snow devil. _Together_. Go get some rest, I'll need you here after midnight."

            I look at Baz. He looks terrible. He's probably thinking the same thing about me, because he's got this wicked look on his face.

            We don't say a word, not even back in our room. I lie down in bed, knowing I'll have to wash the sweat and blood and dirt and leaves out of my sheets tomorrow. Baz showers and changes into another set of clothes, like he's heading back out.

            "You need to rest," I say.

            "Bunce—" he starts to argue, and I say, "Since when do you care about Penny?"

            He's too tired to argue. "Lie down, before I knock you over and hold you down." It's an empty threat, but it somehow works. Baz lies over top of his blankets and I stay awake just long enough to hear his breathing turn to a soft snore before I'm out as well.

            When I wake up it's daylight, and Baz is just coming in the door, dusting snow out of his hair.

            "You didn't wake me," I say accusingly.

            "I tried, you tried to take a swing at me."

            "Is she ok?" I ask.

            "Bunce or wolf girl?"

            "Both."

            "Maggie has a nasty scar on her chest from the silver, but she also has her life back, so I think she'll be alright. Bunce went to bed around two, said not to expect her at breakfast."

            My stomach makes audible noises at the word. Baz fights a smile and rolls his eyes. "Alright, I'll get us something to eat."

            "No, let me. I slept like 12 hours." I'm already throwing a purple hoodie on and slipping into my trainers. "Coffee?"

            Baz shakes his head wearily. "Nothing for me, thank you. I'm going to sleep until tomorrow."

            I do bring him back coffee, and some cinnamon rolls and bacon. I can always warm it up for him when he wakes up. When I get back, he's sound asleep on top of his covers again. He didn’t even take his coat off, though I can see he’s mended it from the fight. I pull the blanket off my bed and throw it over him, careful not to touch him at all.

            I watch him, just for a moment. Not for the first time, but for the first time without wondering if he's dreaming of putting me in the ground. He looks so calm. I can’t believe he’s the same person I just saw wrestling a werewolf (and _winning_ ). I can’t believe he’s the boy I hated for all those years. And I can’t believe I’m falling in love with him.


	19. Chapter 19

AGATHA

            Niall has never talked to me before. Not so much as a "Can I borrow a pencil?" in six and a half years. So when he stops me on my way into Mummer's House on the last Friday before break, I think he must be about to bust me for sneaking in for the Magelings meeting.

            Then I think for a second, maybe he's waiting for me because he likes me, and I feel bad for his girlfriend. (Maybe him and Dev pass each other's cast offs back and forth.)

            But then he says, like it's a chore for him to do so, "Look, you don't have to take my advice, but I think Dev will probably ask you back out over break, while he's home and bored, yeah?"

            I only have a moment to wonder why he's even telling me this, and if he's trying to convince me to get me to get back together with Dev when he says, "And you should say no."

            I wrinkle my nose. "Why do you even care?"

            "I don't. I just think you're a nice girl." He smiles and his muddy blue eyes crinkle at the corners. "From what Dev says anyway."

            I shake my hair out and tilt my chin up. "I'm not stupid. I know Dev never cared about me. I'm not—."

            "That's the thing, init? He _does_ care about you. He doesn’t talk about the other girls like he does you. It's just that he treats the people he cares about like shit." He laughs, pointing at his chest. "Myself included. Listen, you do whatever. I wasn't even going to say anything, but Baz asked me to. Said you probably wouldn't want to hear it from him. But he's right." Niall shrugs.

            I don't know what to say so I just frown and keep silent.

            "I'm his roommate, I know him. He isn't going to turn into prince charming just because he likes you. With Dev, you get exactly what you get. That's all I'm saying."

            "Thanks," I mumble, as he walks off, though I don't feel very thankful. I feel insulted, and confused, and weirdly... a little hopeful.

            Why would he say Dev really cares about me? If he did, then why did he break up with me when we weren't even really dating? Maybe he felt bad for the way he was treating me. His exact words were that he'd "enjoyed our time together" but that I should find someone new. I told him I didn’t _want_ anyone new. (I wanted him, just better.)

            Dev makes me feel crap sometimes, but he also makes me feel _..._ It's like I'm the only one in the world when it's just us. I'm the one he makes up nicknames for. I'm the one who he spent all summer with. Not those other girls; not Niall, and definitely not Baz. Baz doesn't know even what Dev really thinks about him.

            And _they_ don't know all the secret things about Dev. Like how he got the scar on his chin riding bikes when he was eight. Or how there's a piece of bone broken off one of his ribs. You can feel it under his skin. (It was so weird at first, but then it's nice, because he's only ever shown it to me.) Or... that he had a Normal best friend that died while he was off at Watford our second year... I wouldn’t be surprised if he confides more in me than anyone.

            And sometimes, I think he might be the only one who knows how I feel about magic. He talks about going into the armed forces after Watford. I can't think of a _less_ magickal career. He'd look good in a uniform. (Though _not_ the Watford uniform. His shoulders are too broad for all that green and he looks uncomfortable in a shirt and tie.) (Which is too bad, really.)

            What are Baz and Niall playing at anyway? Isn't Dev their friend? They _both_ think he wants to be with me. If he's going to ask, if he wants to be my boyfriend for real, officially, than doesn't that mean _something_ has changed?

            Maybe I should just go to his place and we can sort this out. I won't let him kiss me until I've told him how I feel and what I want. Or maybe I'll just ask Keris what she thinks I should do.

 

SIMON

            Seeing as it's the last day before winter break, Baz and I thought we'd give everyone a good show as a sort of Christmas present. So at breakfast this morning, I got to cast **_I'm rubber, you're glue_** on him during our fight. It. Was. _Hysterical_. I got to watch Baz spend the whole day with a coffee cup stuck fast to his hand, and totally unable to sit down in case a chair might be permanently fixed to his arse.

            Neither of us could go to a teacher for the counter curse, we just had to deal with it until the magic wore off. By dinner, Baz ended up with a book stuck to his elbow, someone's glove stuck to his back, and then _lots_ of people's gloves... and pens and whatever else they had on them when they realized what was going on. It became a game to get something new on him without him noticing. I was rolling when Trixie managed to get not one, but _three_ lipsticks on him in Magic Words. He also got stuck with two detentions for refusing to sit down in class, and an apple in his left hand when he got hungry and forgot. Thank magic he realized before he tried to take a bite, or he would have had the apple, _and_ his hand, stuck to his mouth as well.

            I had it a little easier. People kept throwing things at me all day to see them ricochet off of me at light speed, but that was more funny than anything. I _also_ got a detention, since I wasn't able to sit still (kept bouncing up and down on the chair like a rubber ball) or pick up my pencil in our first class. I also couldn't touch any food, everything just kept skittering away from me. By dinner, the spell was finally petering out and we both ate like wild dogs.

            Now we're back in the turret, waiting for Penny and Agatha, too full to start researching yet. Every so often Baz will say something like, "I'm glad Gareth never managed to catch that pigeon. Can you imagine if I'd had a bird shitting down my back all day?"

            Or I'll say something like, "I can't believe the Minotaur bought that you were doing a performance art piece."

            And then we'll die laughing again. (Anything not to think about facing the next three weeks without him.)

            Penny gets here first, busting in like _we’re_ in _her_ room.

            “Get up you lazy juvenile delinquents.”

            "Where's Ags?" I ask. "Back together with Dev?"

            "No, Niall," she answers, sitting beside me on the bed.

            I sit up too quickly and my overfull stomach lurches. "What?"

            "I dunno, he's talking to her downstairs."

            "Is she in trouble?" I ask.

            "No, I asked him to," Baz says, himself sitting up now. "He’s telling her to stay away from Dev."

            What the hell is that supposed to mean? I mean, good, but also, _what the hell is that supposed to mean?_

            "Why?"

            "Because. He's terrible," Baz answers, clearly annoyed I'm asking.

            "He's _your_ friend," I point out.

            "Which makes me uniquely qualified to know exactly how terrible he is." Baz starts pulling out books I think he must have stolen from the library. Agatha knocks on the door at the same time and Penny goes to answer it.

            "Hey," Agatha says flatly. She does not look happy. She hasn’t looked happy since November.

            "I thought we could start looking through the Record," Baz says, handing out a book to each of us. He sets mine beside me on the bed. "See if we can find some patterns in the attacks _not_ involving Snow, since we haven't been getting anywhere so far."

            Penny looks excited. "I hadn't thought of that! That could really open things up. Maybe the Humdrum fighting Simon is just a distraction."

            We spend a couple hours flipping through the Record making notes, but it's already dark out, and we're all too busy thinking about Christmas break to really focus. I know I am, anyway. I'm relieved when Baz and Penny decide to call it a night early.

            All three of them are about to head out— Baz to the Catacombs, the girls to the Cloisters— when I say, "Hey, Agatha. Can I talk to you about something for a second?"

            She frowns and a crease forms between her eyebrows. "What is it, Simon?"

            Baz and Penny are both staring at me. I don't answer and they both get the hint and leave. Penny mouths _"No"_ at me as she leaves, and I know she thinks I'm going to ask Agatha to be my girlfriend again. Which is ridiculous, because we've talked about it, and I've realized I made Agatha really unhappy. I wouldn't put her through all that again, just because it's nice for me to be dating her.

            "Is this about Christmas break?" she asks. "Because you can still stop by Christmas Day, if you like. My parents have a present for you."

            "No," I say. "I mean, thanks, but... I'm staying here, then going to the Bunces' for the holidays. I just wanted to ask if you're okay."

            Agatha tilts her head and looks over at Baz's side of the room. "I'm fine. Just not having a great year is all."

            "Dev doesn't deserve you, you know."

            She rolls her eyes. "Everyone says that. You, Keris. Niall and Baz apparently..."

            I shrug. "It's true." She gives me a funny look so I add, "Not that I think _I_ do, maybe no one does. Merlin, you're, well, _you_."

            "What's that supposed to mean?" she asks. This is exactly why we shouldn't be together. I have no idea what I've done to upset her already.

            "You're beautiful," I say, and that's the wrong thing, because she looks disappointed and says, "Thanks," to the floor.

            "I mean, you're great. You're a good person, a good friend, and as previously established, Dev is none of those things."

            "You don't even know him." she says quietly.

            I point to the scar under my eye from when he cursed my wand last March. "My face does."

            "Dev did that?" She's surprised, and then I realize I never told anyone it wasn't actually Baz. "How do you know?"

            "Baz told me." 

            She flips her hair back over her shoulder and scoffs. " _That's_ believable. Why would Dev even want to hurt you?"

            I fall short. I can't tell her Baz is gay. It's not my secret. I can't tell her we kissed, because that's basically the same thing.

            "Exactly. I don't know why you're so trusting of Baz anyway—"

            "He's different, now—" I say, not entirely sure it's the truth.

            "But I'm not allowed to think Dev is different?"

            I don't know how this became a fight, but I don't see a way out of it so I just put my hands up. "Okay! I'm sorry! Marry him if you want. We're only worried about you."

            "Baz? _Baz_ is worried about me?" She wrinkles her forehead at this.

            "Yeah." I shrug again. "Trust me, I'm not thrilled about the idea, but he is."

            "Really? _That's_ what this is about? You two are jealous?"

            I can't help but laugh, it's just too funny. It bursts out of me and Agatha's eyes go wide and she blushes crimson. "No, wait. I'm sorry Agatha. I’m not laughing at you. We just care about you!"

            But it's too late. She's already halfway down the stairs.

 

AGATHA

            Dev _never_ says I'm pretty. Never once has he called me beautiful.

            Dev is waiting for me, I _know_ he's waiting for me, at the bottom of the stairs. I know because when he sees me he smiles and says, "Hey, kid." like he asked me to come here.

            I stand on my tiptoes, grab either side of his rough face and kiss him so hard I knock him back a step. Fuck them. All of them. I know what I want. And maybe Dev isn't good, but maybe I don't want to always have to be _so bloody good_.

            I pull away, out of breath, and Dev says, "That's my girl."


	20. Chapter 20

BAZ

            I think I've stumbled upon a formula. Pick a bar, it doesn't even have to be a gay bar, go in alone. Order one drink and stand by the windows, or just away from the dance floor if there are no windows. Make eye contact with the first nine who desperately wants to be a ten you see. Drink whatever he brings you. Or buy him a drink, if he's shy. And voilà.

            Sometimes they kiss me on the dance floor, sometimes they wait until we get outside. Sometimes I have to  kiss them first. Sometimes they're rubbish. Sometimes they're better than Snow. Sometimes they taste so good I want to bite. (And sometimes _they_ bite.) It's always different. But it always ends the same.

            That's my favourite part, the end. When they ask if I want to get out of here, and I laugh in their face.

            No, that's not it. My favourite part is forgetting the taste of Snow's lips with each new kiss. It's all so muddled now. Was it the blond in Soho who only kissed with his eyes open? Either way, he tasted like wintergreen mint. Or maybe it was like beer. And was it the tall one that tasted like menthol, or was that the handsy one in Camden?

            I only came to London for the Old Families’ meeting. I got a little drunk since my father wasn't at this one, and was little help when I was asked what the Mage and Snow had been up to all this term. I didn't expect Dev to have anything to say, either, but then he did. He found out the Mage had killed a goblin king in Essex, and now whichever goblin kills the Mage will be the _next_ king. How does _Dev_ know all that?

            Anyway, after that embarrassment, I didn't see any reason _not_ to go out and get sozzled. (I mean, can I even get cirrhosis if I'm a vampire?) That's when I discovered the formula. That's when I realized how good it felt knowing I could have whoever I wanted, as long as it wasn't Simon Snow.

            That's how I ended up here, sleeping on Fiona's couch for the last two weeks. Watching as she slowly lost faith in me entirely as a person, but specifically as a soldier in the war against the Mage.

 _No wait_ , I think, _that's my favourite part_. Falling asleep on Fiona's couch. Because no matter what happens, I always end up here. I always end up alone. And I always dream of Snow.

 

SIMON

            "Penny." We're lying perpendicular on Penny's bed, her head on my lap while she scrolls through social media on her computer, killing time before lunch. It's Christmas Eve and Penny's mum has told Penny I'm to be confined to her room for the rest of the day. I've been trying to stay out of everyone's way, but there's just too many bloody people, and too many poorly-balanced stacks of papers. (Too many priceless family heirlooms balancing on end tables I didn't see until it was too late.)

            "Hmmm," Penny answers. She doesn't look away from her laptop screen.

            "I think we should go see Baz."

            Now she looks up. "What? Why?"

            I shrug, trying to sound indifferent, "I dunno. To get out of the house. And so he's not alone at Christmas."

            "He's not alone, he's got a family," she says.

 _Oh, right. I forgot about them._ I actively try to block them out. "Yeah, but they're not us."

            Penny tilts her head to the side and raises her eyebrows as if to say, _Well that's true_. She meets my eyes and I try to will her to say yes.

            "Well, I _have_ always wanted to see Pitch Manor. It's a historical site."

            "Is it?" I ask. Then I remember Baz saying it looked like the house in Harold and Maude. That seems a little intimidating. (Maybe we should call and invite him here?) (No wait, Penny's mom would _not_ be cool with that.)

            Penny is searching something on her laptop now. "Look! I told you. It's open for Christmas."

            "What is?" She turns her laptop towards me and there's this ridiculous Gothic mansion pulled up on the screen. It's all turrets and gargoyles and tiny little windows. No one could actually _live_ there.

            "Pitch Manor. They decorate and have live music and you can pay an exorbitant amount of money to eat dinner there."

            "On Christmas Eve?"

            "Yeah. It's all put on by the Magickal Historical Society. It's a different location every year. The Grimm-Pitches must be away this year." She pulls the laptop back toward herself and starts scrolling through the page, turning on her side to face me.

            This is perfect. I could get to see where Baz grew up and I don't have to worry about running into him and him thinking I'm a freak or stalking him. ( _Again_.) _And_ this gives me an idea.

            "When can we go?" I ask.

            "It opens at one." Penny's smiling at me over the laptop. She wiggles her eyebrows. "If we leave now we can get there by two."

***

            I can't believe the Bunces let us borrow the family car, but then Penny told them we were only going round to Agatha's for the afternoon. And I think her mum was dying to get me out of the house. Penny's driving and I'm a little bit concerned for our lives. It's the longest car ride I've ever experienced, though it's actually only a couple of hours even with getting lost twice. (And stopping at Tesco's.)

            Pitch Manor is at the end of a long private road, and though it's huge, you can't see it until you're almost on top of it. A long stretch of forest runs in a line around it, and the trees are so close it completely blocks it from view. Everything's covered in snow, and there's a gigantic decorated Christmas tree in the centre of the front lawn. There's a candle in every window (magic, probably) and the whole scene would be downright heart-warming if the house didn't belong in a Scooby Doo mystery.

            We park alongside a row of cars, all much fancier than Penny's parents', and walk up the front steps to the carved front door. When we get inside, Penny magicks the snow off our boots so we don't drip all over the place. There's people in period clothing standing in the archway at the other end of the entryway, and I feel a little embarrassed for them. Then they start talking to us and I realize they're the Historical Society tour guides.

            Penny catches my eye and I can tell from her dimpled smile that she thinks this is as ridiculous as I do. She shrugs, still smiling: _Why not?_

            I shake my head and shrug back. I hold my hand out. _After you._

            We try to keep straight faces as a middle-aged woman in a bonnet takes us through all the rooms on the main floor, but every time she turns away Penny and I crack. This is unbelievable. Every room has two things that tie it all together: creepy old furniture and the colour blood red. I can't tell if they've hired actors or if the Pitches really have three maids, a groundskeeper, and a cook. I mean, I know the cook is real, but really? Does Baz even dress himself, or do they have someone to do that?

            The kitchen does smell amazing, though. It makes me wish we had the money to stay for dinner, but a plate costs more than all the money I've ever had in my life. (Stupid leprechaun gold not counting.) The money goes to the Historical Society, probably so they can buy more bonnets.

            Penny keeps pointing out portraits to me. One is Baz's mum, who I recognize from her portrait at school. Another is his dad, Malcom Grimm, who I recognize from all the times he's struck fear into me when he's dropped Baz off or picked him up from Watford. Then another, his grandfather, something-or-other Pitch, whose sneer looks oddly familiar. Then this or that famous magician I'm supposed to have learned about in class. (I don't see any pictures of Baz though.)

            And she keeps pointing out historical magickal artefacts that I'm sure would mean something to me if I'd grown up with magic, but just seem made up now. When she points out a set of bone china said to have served fairy flesh, I swear she's messing with me, but then she shows me it in the pamphlet they handed out at the door. I'm starting to be surprised Baz didn't murder me and eat me our first night at Watford.

            I'm doing my best to imagine him growing up here, but I can't. Maybe I could have when I thought he was just a villainous monster, but now... I picture eleven year old Baz sitting at the dining room table, his feet not even touching the floor. When we look out on the lawns outside, I can see they're all landscaped and not meant for kids to play football on, or make snowmen.  We get so turned around, I can't imagine children not getting lost at least once or twice, even if they always lived here. Then the guide tells us there are _wraiths_ roaming the upper floors, and it makes me shiver. I've faced wraiths before, but I didn't have to grow up with them.

            When we get to the library, (which I have to say, is a lot more impressive than the Bunces')(it's a whole production, there's ladders involved) I pretend I have to pee and sneak up a back stairway I saw in the kitchen. I walk carefully, and only half because I'm worried I'll be caught. The other half is from worry that I'll walk through a door and fall straight into a dungeon. This is _exactly_ the kind of house that would have a secret dungeon.

            Earlier, at the giant illuminated staircase, I heard someone playing violin from upstairs. I know Penny said they have trained musicians for the dinner tonight, but it wasn't Christmas music. It was the weird stuff Baz plays when he's not playing Bach or whatever. He practices all the time in our room now, I'd know it anywhere.

            When I get upstairs, I'm at the end of a long dark hallway. There's hardly any light up here, but I don't really need light to find my way. I can _hear_ someone plucking violin strings. I follow the sound to a tall arched door. It's cracked, and whoever's playing is on the side of the room behind the door. I try to push it open slowly, but like everything else in this house, the door is ancient and its hinges squeal in protest. _Shit._

            I stand up straight, ready for Baz to open the door and know I'm totally mental and have come to look at his house like he's some kind of zoo animal and—

            The door swings open and there's a little girl with dark hair in a nightgown staring up at me with her face contorted in a pout. Then she realizes who I am and her eyes go wide.

            "You're Simon Snow!" she gasps. _Crap._

            "No I'm not. I'm just some nutter looking 'round your house for Christmas," I say and turn quickly toward what I think is the direction of the front stairs. But then I hear him.

            " _Mordelia!_ " It's Baz. It's definitely Baz, I'd know his pissed off yell anywhere. Oh shit, it's Baz, and he's coming right up the front staircase. ( _Penny said they wouldn't be home!_ )

            I duck into the room with the little girl and hide behind the door, which I immediately realize was a stupid idea. Baz's violin is laying plain as day on the monstrous carved bed. His blue fire is dancing in the fireplace. _This is Baz's room._


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this song isn't really relevant to this chapter, it's just snowbaz af and i wanted to share it with you:  
> [ like real people do](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yrleydRwWms)
> 
> love your comments, love YOU!

BAZ

            I've told her a thousand times not to touch my violin. If she's broken a string, I'll pop the heads off all her dolls. But when I get to my room, she doesn't even try to hide. She just looks up at me, hands behind her back, with a look on her face like she's just seen a worseger tap dance. Her eyes keep flitting behind me.

            "Mordelia...?"

            "Simon Snow's behind your door," she says.

            My heart jumps out of my fucking throat. _Aleister Crowley, she's not serious?_

            "... _What_?"

            "He's behind your door. He told me not to say anything, but I think it's funnier this way."

            "Snow?" I ask. I hear his head thud against the wall.

            After a moment, he sighs and says, "Yeah?"

            "Why are you behind my door?" I ask.

            He groans. "I didn't want you to think I was a creeper sneaking around your house at Christmas."

            I can't help but smile. "So, naturally, you hid in my bedroom to remove all suspicion."

            "Yep."

            I pull the door away from the wall, and there he is. Simon bloody Snow. In my bedroom. His face so red, I can practically _smell_ his blush. _Happy Christmas to me_.

            "How did you get here?" I ask. It's taking all my willpower not to beam at him, especially since he looks so put out.

            "Hang on," he says, and he runs out of my bedroom at full speed. I hear him bounding down the stairs like an enthusiastic St. Bernard. I look at Mordelia and she just shrugs.

            "How long was he in here?" I hiss.

            "Just a second." She shrugs again.

            "Aren't you supposed to be in bed?" I ask. She heaves a sigh with her whole body and dramatically starts dragging herself back down the hall toward her own room. I stand in my doorway, wondering if Snow was seriously going to come back or if he's going to move to Siberia out of embarrassment. A few minutes later, I hear him coming breathlessly back up the stairs.

            And he's got a box.

 

 SIMON

            My heart is pounding, and not just from the running. I'm sweating a little. This is so embarrassing. But not as embarrassing as hiding in the bedroom of your enemy. Friend. Ally. (Crush?) Whatever.

            When I get back up the stairs, Baz is leaning in his doorway, looking ridiculous. _Ridiculously good_. I didn't realize how much I missed him until now, but I have. I want to knock him over, mess up his perfect hair, get him laughing.

            I hand him the present instead, careful not to touch his hands when he takes it. "Here. I had to wrap it in the car. I was just going to leave it, but since you’re here... Penny said you wouldn't be here." I want to make that part clear.

            He's looking at the box like he has no idea what presents are, or what Christmas is, even. Like all the holly and mistletoe in his house is to ward off squirrel demons or something.

            "It's not cursed," I say. "You _can_ open it."

            Baz slides one of his thin grey fingers under the brown paper and I hear the tape pop. He barely tears the wrappings at all.

            He raises an eyebrow. "A portable DVD player?"

            "Yeah, for our room. You and Penny, you're always making all these references I don't get. Saying spells from movies I’ve never seen. I want to know what in Merlin's name you two are always on about. So I thought… maybe you could..." I'm starting to feel really stupid. Baz is just staring at me. I'm about to grab the box back from him, sprint out the front door, and drive away. Sod Penny, she can live here now. (She told me he wouldn't be here!)

            Baz steps forward a bit, so if there wasn't a curse, and I leaned into him just a little, we'd be touching. "It's lovely," he says, with a spark of a smile. And the weirdest thing of it all is, I think he means it.

            "So you'll do it? You'll teach me about movies?" I ask, swallowing hard.

            He nods, and now he is smiling for real. He’s got this look on his face… I think he’s _happy_. I think… I think if there wasn't a curse on him, he'd kiss me now. (But maybe that's just wishful thinking...)

            "Er, Simon?" I hear Penny call from somewhere near the stairs. Baz looks at her and takes a casual, graceful step back. I turn and see she has one of the maids in the black dresses with her.

            "Vera, we're two more for dinner," Baz says to the maid. Then to me, "Wellbelove's not with you, is she?"

            I shake my head.

            "Just two more then."

            "We can't stay, Baz," Penny points between herself and me, but the maid's already headed back down the stairs. "I've got to get my parents' car back..."

 _Parents_.

            "Are _your_ parents here?" I blurt out.

            "No, they're in Oxford. I came back from London to look after Mordelia." He rolls his eyes. "She says she's sick, but I think she's convinced Father Christmas won't come to the hunting lodge and wanted to wait for him here."

            So he _is_ alone at Christmas. Or as alone as you can be in a house full of weird strangers in fancy dress.

            Penny clears her throat on the stairs.

            "Can anyone hear me? We can't stay, Simon—" But then I turn to Penny and give her the look. The this-is-a-life-or-death-situation-so-don't-mess-with-me, Penelope Bunce, look. "I'll call and say we're staying for Agatha's parents' weird party. They'll be thrilled."

            "We're not eating with the reenactors, are we? I'm not really dressed—" I start to say, and that's when I notice Baz is wearing jeans. I've never seen Baz in jeans before. I didn't even know he _owned_ jeans. (And who could wear jeans in a place like this?)

            He sneers. "No, we'll eat in the kitchen."

            I hear Penny explaining to her parents that we'll be late from about halfway down the stairs. "Yeah, I'll drive back safely. Not too late, I promise. No, what I'm wearing is fine."

_This is really happening. I'm spending Christmas Eve with Baz._

            "Wait, you were in London?" I ask. " _We_ were in London. Why didn't you stop by?"

            Baz tucks his chin in, looking down at me. "Stop in at the Bunces'? No, I don't think so."

            "What were you in London for?"

            "Long story," he says, and leans back into his room to put the DVD player on a trunk at the end of his bed. Everything in his room is nightmarish. Another vampire joke. Dark wood, red fabric on the walls, and gargoyles everywhere. He shuts the door and leads us back down the stairs.

* * *

            The food here is better than Watford's. How is that possible? Is it just because it's Christmas Eve, or do they always eat like this?

 

PENELOPE

            Baz isn't eating. That's kind of weird. This whole thing is kind of weird. I feel like I’m intruding on a very odd date... along with Baz's little sister. (And two cooks and three servers for the fancy dinner going on out in the dining room.)

            At least we're in the kitchen, which is definitively the least creepy part of the house. There's copper pots and herbs hanging from the ceiling, and all the food makes it smell like heaven. It’s noisy, but seeing as neither Baz nor Simon know what to say, it’s probably a good thing.

 

MORDELIA

            I didn’t know Basil had any friends except Niall. I like Penny, her hair is purple and she’s so pretty. Simon Snow is shorter than in his pictures in the papers. But he’s not as mean as I thought he would be. Daddy and Basil talk about him sometimes, they said he wants to hurt our family. But I think he’s silly. He’s making butter sandwiches with his bread. And he makes silly faces.

 

BAZ

            “Why do you do that?” I ask as Snow attacks his third dinner roll with the butter knife.

            He looks up at me stupidly. “Do what?”

            “He never had real butter before Watford,” Bunce explains.

            “Never had butter?” Mordelia squeaks. “Butter s’not even a food! It’s just there!”

            “I _had_ butter!” Snow protests. “It just came in a tub.”

            “ _That’s_ not butter,” Bunce argues. “That’s vegetable oil.”

            Snow freezes mid-bite. “That’s not real butter?”

            Bunce laughs and I allow myself a smirk.

            “So that’s why this tastes so much better?” Snow scrutinizes his roll, like it’s hiding something, then takes a huge bite. Mordelia giggles. I hide my smile behind my hand.

            “I’m terrified to ask what _else_ you haven’t eaten,” I say sarcastically.

            “Whatever this is,” Snow says around a mouthful of bread, pointing at his plate.

            “Duck,” I answer.

            “Oh, never mind then. I had duck once, at the Wellbeloves’.”

 

PENELOPE

            Baz has a funny look on his face, like he doesn’t want to be outdone by the Wellbeloves. It's the same look he has when he's about to fight Simon, like he's accepting a challenge.

            “Have you ever had caviar?” he asks. He’s crossed his arms.

            Mordelia makes a noise like retching and sticks out her tongue.

            “Hush. It’s not for children.” Baz jerks his chin up at Simon. “Snow?”

            Simon smiles roguishly. “Well I’m not trying it _now._ ”

            Baz stands and goes to one of the half a dozen cupboards and pulls it open. “Pomegranate?”

            Simon shakes his head.

            “Macarons?”

            “ _I_ want a macaron!” I beg.

            Baz rolls his eyes. “You’ve already tried them.”

            But he brings four to the table anyway, and the pomegranate, and a glass jar of honey tucked under his arm. Simon, Mordelia, and I eat our macarons while Baz cuts the fruit into halves with a tap of his wand.

            “I’m definitely pro macarons,” Simon says after popping his in his mouth whole. Baz hands him half of the pomegranate and Simon makes a face. This makes Mordelia giggle again.

            “It’s sour,” she warns.

            “How do you eat it?” Simon asks. “It looks like guts.”

            “Like this,” Baz eats his with a spoon and Simon copies him. It's the first I've seen Baz eat all night.

            “Pro this, too. The weird guts-fruit.”

            Baz laughs. “Is there anything you _won’t_ eat?”

            I shake my head. “No. I’ve seen him eat syrup in cottage cheese.”

            “Pancake syrup?” Baz is leaning back in his chair, arms crossed again.

            “The very same!” I say in scandalized tone.

            “You’re weird,” Mordelia tells Simon, who’s managed to get pomegranate juice down his chin.

            “Aren’t you going to scold her or something?” Simon asks Baz.

            “For telling the truth?” Baz replies coolly and slides the honey across the table to Simon.

 

SIMON

            “I’ve had honey,” I protest.

            “Not like this. Put it on a roll.” I wonder if Baz is being so bossy because we’re at his house, or because his little sister’s here. I notice the maid that brought Penny to us earlier is hanging around, taking more time than absolutely necessary to dry dishes. I wonder if she’s going to report back everything we say to Baz’s dad.

            I tear a roll in half and pour some of the sticky honey over it. When I take a bite, I see exactly what Baz means. _This_ honey tastes like flowers. But more than that, it gets sweeter as I’m eating it. Like the more I taste it the better it becomes.

            I swallow and say, “ _This_ is good. I like this.”

            Baz gets back up and goes back to the cupboard. He pulls out a brand new jar of the stuff and sets it in front of me. “Happy Christmas, Snow.”

            Then, as if he’s read my mind, Baz says, “Vera, we’ll finish the dishes. Go home. It’s Christmas Eve.”

            She tries to object, which only stokes my suspicions. In the end, she insists on taking Mordelia’s temperature before she goes. (She’s fine. I think Baz is right and she’s faking.) (She’s mentioned Father Christmas about a dozen times.)

            Penny and I stay until all the fancy dress people have left, and then the cooks and wait staff. Mordelia falls asleep at the table and Baz has to carry her up to bed.

            “We should go,” Penny says and nudges my arm with her elbow. I know she’s right, but I don’t want her to be.

            “We can’t leave him alone.”

            “He can’t come with us and we can’t stay,” she says.

            I hear Baz coming back. I can’t think of any excuse to stay fast enough.

 

BAZ

            They're leaving, which is to be expected. And I don't want them to (because I'm weak).

            But the fact that they were here at all, that _Snow_ was here at all...

            I don't watch them go. I put Mordelia's presents out before I forget and go back up to my room. I sit on the edge of my bed and pull my own present into my lap. Trace the edges of the brown paper, the haphazardly taped seams...

            Maybe it’s the snow, or the fairy lights, or the fact that he came all this way, I don’t know. Or because I’ve wished for it all this time, and now it’s Christmas and… Everything feels… _different_. Everything seems possible.

            I've always wanted the impossible. I never allowed myself to consider that the impossible could want me back.

 

PENELOPE

            Simon’s got his head pressed to the passenger’s side window, moping.

            “How did this even happen?” I ask. “Aren’t you still the same people who couldn’t stand each other this time last year?”

            “You really think the Baz we just had dinner with would send a chimera after me?”

            He’s right. And the Simon in the car with me wouldn’t go off and knock Baz out cold just because he was upset over a test. I just don’t understand how they got here.

            I have to stifle a yawn, it's nearly midnight. "I think I like the new Simon and Baz better."

            "Me too," Simon says to the window. He's still holding the jar of honey in both hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel compelled to tell you all the butter incident happened to me irl. i was dating my husband and grown before i knew that the tub stuff wasn't real butter and that's why hubs' cooking tastes so much better than mine XD


	22. Chapter 22

SIMON

Penny's mum drops us at the gates and when she's out of view down the lane again, I say goodbye to Penny and take off. Is this my life now? Always running toward Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch?

He won't be back yet, he's never back this early, the selfish prick. Doesn't he know I want to see him? _Can't wait_ to see him?

Three weeks isn't enough to make the room forget me, so I burst through the door breathless. Baz is there, I mean _right there_ , sitting at his desk just next to the door.

"Welcome back, Snow," he greets me. There's a smile playing at one corner of his mouth.

I'm beaming. "Welcome back, Baz."

* * *

It's a good thing I didn't figure this out sooner, I think. Because now, all I can think about is Baz. I mean, I guess he was all I could think about _before_ , but now it's effecting my ability to pay attention in class. When he answers a question, my heart flutters stupidly. If anyone says his name, I can feel the heat rising in my chest. _Is this what love feels like?_ I don’t know, I never felt this way before. It feels like magic. But better. I don't have to control it, don't _want_ to control it, I just want to drown in it. I want Baz to feel it, too. I wish I could give it to him, like I gave him my magic.

I can't wait until Saturday. We worked it out that that's the best day for my pop culture education. I just have to wait for football practice to end, and for Baz to shower. And for dinner to be over. _Merlin_ , I'm going to lose my mind waiting for this every week.

But there's nothing I can do. I've never been able to shut Baz out of my thoughts, and now I never want to.

 

BAZ

Snow looks like Wellbelove dressed him. At least, I've never seen him look this put together. He's wearing jeans, but he's got his white Watford button up on with the sleeves rolled up. And his hair looks like he dried it with magic. It's less curly, more wavy, and softer than usual.

"Okay, so what are we watching?" Snow asks, hands on his hips. I pull my mattress onto the floor and start arranging the pillows. _Can we all fit on one?_ " _Not_ Rocky Horror. Penny already made me watch it."

"And you didn't like it?" I ask. He's just standing there so I grab the pillows of off his bed, too. I hold my breath so his scent doesn't overwhelm me.

He laughs and makes a face. "Are you kidding me? What the hell _was_ that?"

I smirk. "Guess it was over your head. Where is she, by the way? We should get started. We're doing a double feature."

"Who?" Snow gives me an odd look.

"Bunce," I insist, but as soon as the word's out of my mouth, it hits me. _She's not coming._ This isn't so _we_ can teach Simon...

"It's just us?" I ask. Snow smiles and puffs air through his nose.

"Yeah," he says with a nod. He acts like that was obvious.

_It's just us._

Snow starts to sit down, then remembers something. He walks to the drawer by his bed and starts to take his cross off.

"What are you doing?" I snap.

Snow rolls his eyes. "We have the Anathema _and_ your spell, this is a little overkill isn’t it? And besides, it hurts right? Even to be near it?"

I don't want to concede that it does. I don't answer, and he slides open the drawer and puts the golden cross away anyway. He sits down next to me, careful not to touch me, but I can feel his heat radiating off of him. I lean forward and put the first movie in.

"Black and white?" he asks incredulously. I shush him. The credits illuminate the screen. "Fred Astaire... I know that name! Penny says you remind her of him."

I give him an incredulous look. "Because we're both dead?"

Snow tosses his head. "No! Because you _dance_ like him."

I laugh. "Well that's nice of her, but no one dances like him."

I'm trying not to talk, the whole point is that he hear the dialogue, all the catchphrases and songs and often-quoted lines, so he can get better at magic. So he can understand what Bunce and I are on about. But I can't help it.

"Why were you two talking about me dancing?" I ask.

"I wanted you to go with us to the girls' choice ball last year. I thought you'd go with Penny, or we'd all go as friends or something."

I laugh again. I can't help it, he's so ridiculous. "Snow, that's a terrible idea."

He laughs, too. "I know that, _now_."

Snow ends up liking both of the movies— he'd have to be an idiot not to. It’s late. He decides to turn in, and I think I'll go out for a hunt. I'm starting to think, _I can do this._ _I can be close to Snow. It doesn't have to be weird._ And then Snow starts undressing for bed.

For once, he doesn't go into the bathroom like always, and I realize, _he's using my own sodding trick against me_.

I know because halfway through unbuttoning his shirt, he looks over his shoulder at me, making sure I'm seeing this, and says, "Goodnight, Baz."

And he's got this _look._ Mouth open, eyes half closed... And when he sees the unnerved look on my face, he gives me one of his half smiles that make my thoughts turn villainous. He's so bloody pleased with himself.

He's using my own sodding trick against me, _and_ _he's better at it than me._

Well, two can play at this game.

* * *

I wait all week for this. I make sure I feed _before_ the movie this time, so I can go straight to bed after. I pick a movie I don't care about since I know my mind will be elsewhere. When the credits start to roll, I switch off the DVD player and switch on the light. Snow doesn't even have a chance to get up before I'm changing right in front of him. It's all I can do not to sneer when I catch sight of his face again after pulling my sweater over my head. Snow's mouth is open like he's catching flies, and his eyebrows are mashed together in disbelief.

"What?" I ask casually, not breaking eye contact, my hands on the button of my trousers. He doesn't answer, just swallows and blinks stupidly up at me. So away go the trousers.

_Don't try to beat me at a game I invented, Snow._

 

SIMON

This is getting out of hand. I'm not about to be outdone by Baz. Not when I had to spend all week picturing him standing in front of me in only his pants. (Not that I've _never_ seen him in his pants before, sometimes he sleeps like that, but always with a shirt on.) But this was a proper challenge.

I don't think either one of us paid any attention to the movie this week. (Something about space.) As soon as it ends, we both go back to our own sides of the room and start to undress. This time, Baz's eyes meet mine. He's got his chin tilted up, daring me to be the first to look down. Shirts go, then my belt, then his trousers and my jeans. Neither of us has caved yet, so we just stand there, not breaking eye contact.

I can feel my magic buzzing just under my skin; I'm hoping he can't feel it. After a few moments, I start to smile. We can't go on like this.

"Truce?" I suggest.

Baz doesn't look like he's going to give in— his eyes will bore holes into me before he concedes— and I can't physically _not_ look at him for another second…

"Truce," he declares. And we both look.

 _Fuck._ Why does he have to be so fit? So fit and so here and so—

_I have to break that curse._


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's another song that just like screams SnowBaz to me please enjoy:  
> [third eye](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4NIoKWjALiE)

SIMON

            "This one _I_ haven't even seen. Fiona recommended it, so it could be very... _unconventional_. Just a warning."

            It's mid February. I've lost track of how many of these movie nights we've had so far, how many weeks it's been. Everything outside of our Saturday nights just blurs together.

            "Did she show you Harold and Maude, then?" I ask. Baz doesn't answer but he's got this annoyed look on his face so I know I'm right.

            Baz is right. The movie, Weekend, is like nothing we've watched so far. There's a dick shot within the first minute. I try not to seem uncomfortable. Then it's just a lot of quiet talking for a long while, so I can relax a bit. I can't figure out what it's supposed to be _about_ , though, besides this bloke...

 

BAZ

            _Fuck_. He's at a gay bar. Why didn't Fiona warn me this was a gay movie? _Because she didn't think you'd be showing it to Simon Snow, you imbecile._

            Oh, Crowley, it's only getting weirder. I've got to turn it off.

  
SIMON

            "We don't have to watch this," Baz says in a rush. He shifts beside me like he’s trying to put more distance between us. "I had no idea what it was about. I'm sorry."

            He thinks it's freaking me out. (To be fair, it _is_ kind of freaking me out? They're talking about sex like it's nothing. Like it's the weather.) But I don't want _him_ to think it's freaking me out, that gay stuff freaks me out.

            "No, I want to see what happens," I whisper back, and I'm glad I do. The movie does get better. It's funny, I can't help but think the one bloke reminds me of Baz. The way he's so angry and clever. He's kind of cruel, but there's something else, too. He’s sure of himself...

            Baz doesn't seem weirded out by this movie _at all_. I wonder, _Is this all normal for him? Does he go to gay clubs? Do drugs with strangers?_ And then, and I get really nervous when I think of it: _Has Baz had sex?_

            I try not to think about it.

_Am I breathing weird?_

            I think I'm breathing weird.

 

BAZ

            Oh, for fuck's sake, this is so embarrassing. He's going to think I picked this movie on purpose. One of the two guys is an _orphan_. I didn't know. I'm mentally raging at Fiona for not warning me. I don't know how she didn't see the character is _just_ like Snow (although I guess she doesn't know him like I do.) The guy's a bloody lifeguard; he's _literally_ saved people's lives! And he's so quiet, and good. And so _sweet_.

            But I think Snow likes it. He's leaning forward like he's positively enthralled. I try to relax. If _he_ doesn't think it's weird, _I_ certainly can't think it's weird.

 

SIMON

            I don't think Baz or I have made a sound in the whole of the last hour. Maybe it's because the movie is so quiet. I lean back into the pillows.

            We just watched a sex scene together, Baz and me, and I'm not going to pretend it wasn't hot. _Merlin_ , it was hot. I wish I knew what Baz was thinking. I wait for the movie to quiet down again. (They're just lying in bed, talking about coming out stories.) I sneak a look at Baz, and I think... I think he's _tearing up_.

            I look away. I've never seen Baz cry. I try to figure out what's going on in the scene. (I was still thinking about the last one.) I think the one bloke is pretending to come out to the other? And the other is just… being really supportive, telling him everything his father never said to him...

_Oh._

            I've never asked Baz about that. I didn't know it bothered him. I didn't know anything _could_ get to him like that, honestly. (Well, except _me_.)

            By the time the movie ends, I'm crying, too. But that's nothing, I cry all the time. Can't be helped. It's like my magic, it just comes out of me. Baz used to make fun of it, but now—

            Baz stands abruptly and goes into the bathroom. After a moment, I ask if he's okay, but he doesn't answer.

 

BAZ

            Fuck. _Fuck me_. I can't believe I cried in front of Snow. And over something so stupid. I think I know now why Aunt Fiona wanted me to watch it. I didn't know she knew that my father...

            I wash my face and try not to look like I've been crying. _Again_. Snow must be rubbing off on me, spending all this time together. I have to go back out eventually. I clear my face and open the door.

            Snow looks... _concerned_. He tries to hide it when he sees me, but it's too late. I caught it. He’s got both his hands between his knees and he’s looking away from me now. I sit back down next to him and force air out my nose. "Well, that was weird."

            Snow shakes his head. "No, I liked it. I really liked it. Did you?"

            I nod. We sit quietly for a little while, I can feel Snow's warmth from here.

            Finally, he asks, with so little tact I have to laugh. "So you're parents aren't ok with it then? You being gay?"

            I shake my head. "No. I don't think Daphne would care one way or the other, but my father does."

            "What did he say when you told him?"

            I furrow my brow. "I haven't told him."

            "Then... does he even know? How do you know he's not ok with it?"

            I sigh. "Of course he _knows_ , Snow. We don't need to talk about it." Any more than we need to talk about the fact I'm a vampire. We both know I'm resignedly queer. "I know when he tells me pointedly that I've got to carry on the family name, and when he asks me about girls in school and at the club, and the disappointment—"

 _Why am I telling him all of this?_ I change the subject.

            "What about you? Did you ever figure out... what you are?" I try to sound bored.

            Snow just sighs. "Does it have to be like that? Black and white? Do I have to know everything now?"

            I bite the inside of my cheek. I wish he _would_ just know. "No. I suppose not."

            "Isn't it enough that..." but he cuts himself short. The screensaver on the DVD player is blinking at us. It's the only light in the room now. Snow turns to face me, but he's looking down at the space between us. “Baz?”

            “Hmm? What?”

            He sucks in air, like he's trying to inhale courage. “I want to break the spell.”

            I let his words hang in the air for a long time. He doesn’t even know what he’s asking. Finally, I answer in a low voice: “No.”

            “Why?” He turns his whole body toward me. Crowley, why does he have to be so close? And smell so good, like cinnamon? And feel so warm?

            “Because I’ll hurt you.”

            “No, _you won’t_. I know you won’t.” He lays his arm out on the bed next to mine, not touching. My palm is facing the floor, so he puts his hand palm up. He leaves space for my invisible fingers, and pretends to squeeze my hand. The gesture makes me ache.

            Then he says, in a voice that's barely a whisper: “I trust you.”

            And there. _There._

_He’s done it._

            I can _feel_ it, like a bubble bursting right in my chest: he broke the sodding curse without even knowing it. I don’t even think he said it with magic, but maybe _everything_ Snow says is magic.

_He’s goddamn Prince Charming._

             “What did you say?” I ask. I can't keep the breathless excitement out of my voice.

            He shrugs and looks at my mouth. “I trust you.”

            “Snow?”

            “Yeah?”

            “Shut the fuck up.”

 

SIMON

            I open my mouth to reply, but Baz cuts me off with a kiss. He kisses me, like nothing has happened since last March. Like we're picking right back up from there. I'm too surprised to react at first, but then want takes over and I'm kissing him back, gasping.

 _How?_ I break away. “You broke the curse?”

            “ _No!_ ” he laughs, and kisses me again.

            “Did _I_?” I can taste his smile.

            “Snow, shut up and let me kiss you.”

            I do.

* * *

            I think I've figured it out, why I like Baz's hair down. When it's down, he looks just like a normal boy. Not intimidating. Like a boy you could kiss. Like right now. He looks happy, he looks like himself.

 

BAZ

            I don't know what the hell I was thinking. None of those men from the bars kissed better than Snow. No one _could_ kiss better than Snow. He knows everything I want, everything I like, before I even know I like it. He's presently kissing me just below my right ear, with one of his warm hands on my cheek. He's practically in my lap. He _is_ in my lap. I pull him closer.

 

SIMON

            We're lying on our backs now, on the floor bed. The room is dark, except for the little sparks of gold my magic makes occasionally above us. It's like watching for shooting stars. Baz is running his hand through my hair. I'm dying of thirst, but there's no way I'm moving now. Not now that I've got his heartbeat pressed against my cheek again.

_Crap. Is it after midnight?_

            "Baz, what time is it?"

            "I don't know." His voice is rough. It must be late.

            "Oh, I've _missed_ it." I groan.

            "What?" he whispers.

            "I didn't get to tell you Happy Valentine's Day."

            He laughs, and I feel my heart open a little wider. (I bet he could sneeze and I'd find it endearing.)

            "Happy Valentine's Day, Simon."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> merry christmas, fluff has returned to the tags!
> 
> *breathes a sigh of relief* we made it 
> 
> there will be no new chapter tomorrow because i don't want to spoil you haha
> 
> (also the movie "Weekend" is on netflix and its one of my top 5 favorites and could honestly be SnowBaz AU if it hadn't come out first haha)
> 
> (also also, I told u I wouldn't make you wait 80,000 words like Rainbow XD)


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for all the comments on the last chapter!! you are all so unfailingly kind!! <3 <3
> 
> here's a song for the verrrryyy end part of the chapter (sorry she talks so much at the end of the video):  
> [ a walk through hell](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IvBv99I0-Ok&list=PL0p4IXFGBheOhfNluRgao_eKMuRI29big)

BAZ

            Fuck literally everything. How am I supposed to care about anything at all when Snow— Simon— _Simon Snow_ wants me back? Am I seriously supposed to think about Greek when Simon is there with his hands and wrists and the hollow above his collar bone... Aleister Crowley, I can hear myself being ridiculous, but I don't care. I can't _make_ myself care about anything else.

            We can't do our homework in the same room anymore. I make him go to the library, so I don't have to look at him. It's hard enough seeing him all day, out there on the grounds and in class, knowing we could just come back here instead...

            Simon Snow is my boyfriend. _Simon Snow is my boyfriend_. No matter how many times I think it, it doesn't sink in. Even when he's kissing me, I don't believe it. I wake up with him in my arms, and I'm a traitor to my family, and _I. Don't. Care_.

 

SIMON

            "I need your help."

            "Anything." Penny's got her hands on her hips in her best impression of a super hero.

            "I want... I think I need to start... dressing better. If that makes sense." I rub the back of my neck and look away. Thank god the library is empty as always.

            "Why?"

            "Because I have a boyfriend." Every time I say the word, every time I _think_ it, I feel a spark in my chest like a match striking. It feels warm, and like the good kind of scary. It feels... _exciting_. Like when we're just about to defeat something evil.

            Penny shrugs. “So? You never dressed nice for Agatha.”

            “Yes I did.” My eyebrows dip.

            Penny's laughing now, shaking her head. “ _No,_ you didn’t. Besides, Baz knows what you look like. He likes you like this.”

            Does he? I look down at my red jumper, my white dress shirt half poking out at the bottom. My school trousers that never hold a crease. "But why?"

            She laughs again. "I, thankfully, don't know. I'm immune to your charms. Whatever they are."

            I punch her arm so she'll stop laughing, but I feel like laughing, too.

* * *

            It’s already the full moon again. Penny and Ani are going to lock Maggie in Ani’s room for the night. There doesn’t seem to be any point in the whole babysitting routine since the harness worked absolutely fine last month, too. Baz was even able to hold a conversation with Maggie, though she could only nod or shake her head in reply. He tried his best to set her off, to get the beast to lash out, but she just ignored him. (Which is more than I would have been able to do. Baz has a talent for getting under your skin.)

            Right now though, Baz is just getting ready for bed. He’s sleeping in his clothes tonight, in case Penny calls for him. I think he’s a little put out, not being needed anymore. I can tell he’s in a bad mood from his scowl. I hope I’m not about to make things worse. (My fingers are buzzing already.)

            "I don't think I should sleep in your bed tonight,” I start, doing my best to ignore the heat rising in my chest. “I don't want to... The full moon... If I freak out and go off...”

            He doesn’t say anything. I don’t want him to think I’m having second thoughts. I’ve never been as sure of anything as I have been about this. I don't want to hurt him, that's the whole point...

            “You're flammable," I say. I don’t need to tell him this, and I don't need to remind him that I'm a spark. I wonder if he can feel my magic now.

            Baz just stares at me. It’s a little unnerving, he’s not even blinking. “I’m not afraid of you, Snow.”

            "But _if_ I went off—."

            He stands and grabs my shaking hands.

            "I'm not afraid of you."

            I'm trying to push it down, swallow the molten lump at the back of my throat. Our room is suddenly a hundred degrees despite the snow outside. Baz's hands are cold, so cold, holding mine like an anchor...

            "Maybe... maybe _I'm_ afraid of me." It comes out defensive. Baz puts one hand on the back of my neck and pulls me into his chest. I feel my heat sink into him. This is exactly what I'm worried about. I don't want to hurt him, and he's so close and I'm so—

            I try to fight it, but I feel a hot tear fall on my cheek.

            Baz lets me go and turns away. He starts pulling one of his comforters off of his bed.

            “Trade me,” he says, folding the blanket over his arms.

            “What?” I wipe my face with one hand.

            “Trade me,” he insists. “Yours smells like you.”

            I grab my blanket up in a bundle and swap it for his. I put it against my warm face. He’s right. His smells just like him: his posh soap and lavender-scented washing powder, and faintly like sweat and oranges, and even more faintly like smoke. (That last one is probably me.)

            “Alright?” he asks.

            “Yeah,” I answer, though I’m still buzzing.

            “Just tonight.” It’s not a question. He’s making his bed up again.

            I manage a smile. “Just tonight.”

 

AGATHA

            I can see why people come to the White Chapel to make out. It’s quiet and beautiful and the sunlight through the stained glass makes patterns on the white marble floor. In a way it’s romantic, to think of all the Watford students who have kissed here, even been married here. It’s not quite spring, so it’s much too cold for us to meet out of doors, and he never invites me into his bedroom. (Although, thanks to Penny, I could go now, if he did.)

            We’re sitting in the first pew; my head’s in Dev’s lap. He’s smoking, which I tell him he shouldn’t do indoors, and certainly not over my face. He playfully shoves me away, but catches me from sliding off the bench, pulling me back into him.

            “Try it,” he says, holding the cigarette out for me.

            “Peer pressure.” I giggle.

            “Come on, I’ll lose all respect for you if you don’t try it.” He smiles down at me. I take one puff and immediately breathe the smoke back out. “Alright, that was pitiful, but you tried.”

            He smooths my hair back. I knew it couldn't have been for nothing. I knew I didn’t fall for him after he wanted me all those years only for him to push me away. I knew I was supposed to be right here.

            “Are you tired?” he asks. “You can close your eyes.”

            “No,” I lie. “It wasn’t too bad today. But…”

            He blows smoke over the back of the pew. “What is it? Let me know if it’s getting to be too much for you.”

            I don’t want him to worry. To think I can’t handle it.

            “No, it’s the merwolves. They’re getting so restless. They’re not going to attack anyone, do you think?”

            “No,” he answers confidently. He shakes his head and flick his ashes behind us. “If anything, they’re more docile since they’re afraid of it.”

            I hope he’s right, but then, he knows a lot more about magickal creatures than me.

            "You know," he says, and his cold eyes go soft, "everyone underestimates you.”

 

 

SIMON

            I hover my lips above his. I started this game, but I’m terrible at it, and Baz is _so_ good.  Whoever gives in and kisses the other first loses, and I always lose. He's so close I can feel his cool breath on my skin. We're lying in Baz's bed (always Baz's bed), and he's leaned back against the pillows looking tired and effortlessly cool. My chest is pressed against his, and I can feel his heart fluttering against my skin, slow and even.

            I part my lips slightly, but he still won't bite. (Metaphorically, I mean.) I lick my bottom lip and Baz sighs, looking bored. _Wanker._ I brush my lips against his then, but he just half closes his eyes, rests his hand on my waist, parts his own lips, just barely...

            I can't take it. I lose. I always lose. I press my lips into his and he hesitates a second—only a second—so I know it was me who gave in first. Then he's kissing back, determinedly, and then his cool tongue is in my mouth and it doesn't feel like I've lost at all. I pull back a little so Baz has to lean forward off the pillows to reach me and that, _that_ is how I know: he wants this, too. As much as I do. (If that's possible.)

            I slide my hand into his hair and push back into him. He lays his head back down trapping my hand (good) and I break away, laying my head on his shoulder. I sneak a look up at him and he's smiling with one side of his mouth, but I know it’s only because he thinks I can't see. (These are my favourite smiles.)

            That, or the ones he can't help, when I've made a joke that's just too good for him to resist.

            That, or if I open my eyes and catch him looking at me, and he gets embarrassed and smiles in that shy way...

            One of those.

_All of those._

            "How do you win every time? It's not fair."

            "Practice," he says matter-of-factly, closing his eyes.

            "Practice?"

            He exhales. "I've had years more practice not-kissing you than you have not-kissing me."

            I'm grinning. I'm always grinning now. My cheeks get sore and I have to rub them. I've never been happy like this before.

            I want this to go on forever, this year. I try not to think about it, but I have no idea what I'm going to do when Baz goes home and I go back into care.

            To distract myself, I push myself up so my head is on the pillow next to Baz's. His black hair is a mess on the white pillow case, and I love that, too. He opens one eye and turns toward me.

            "Aren't you getting tired?"

            I smile and shake my head into the pillow. " _I_ could do this all night. Are _you_ tired?"

            "Everything's a competition to you, isn't it?" he says. But his voice is soft. It's the voice he only uses here, in our room. Only with me.

 _This_ is my Baz. Rumpled hair and secret smiles and whispered words.

            "Look at me," I ask. Baz sighs again but turns on his side. I put my hand on his cool cheek, draw my thumb against his high cheek bone. Half his face is hidden in the pillow. "Promise me we get to keep doing this. After."

            "After what?" He slides his left hand up under the pillows between us.

            "Everything. Promise you'll let me keep this, even if everything else goes to shit."

            Baz's eye is wide open now, his iris is cinder gray in the dim warm light of his desk lamp. I can tell there's something he wants to say, I'm getting better at knowing when there’s more going on in his head than he shows on his face. I cross my thumb over his pouty lips, willing him to say it.

            "You're asking me to promise you the future. I can't promise what I don't have."

            I scrunch my eyebrows together in concern. "Please don't think like that. You have to think you have a future. You have to plan on that, or how are we going to get through it all?" I feel suddenly breakable. The happiness of a moment ago seems desperately fragile, like a glass figurine shelved just below a box of hammers.

            "I never did before and I made it this far," he answers. Why does he have to contradict me? What is it that he can't just say?

            "You don't think we have a future?"

            "Of course _you_ do. Nothing is going to stop _you_." He's staring intently back at me.

            "And you? Don’t you have a future?" I don't add " _with me?_ "

            He doesn't answer. Maybe he's too tired to lie, and I never expect the truth. Not all of it, not from Baz.

            " _I_ need that," I say, baring a little bit more of myself, knowing it won't matter. Knowing he won't let me in. Maybe it's just another competition; I want him to see how much better I am at this. At being brave, at letting him in, despite everything. "I need _this_ to get me through. I need something to fight for. Something that's mine when this is all said and done. Or else what's it all for?"

            Baz closes his eyes and shifts deeper into the pillow, burying his face. I think he's not going to answer but then he says in a muffled voice, "I can't deny you anything, Snow."

 _Really?_ "Promise?"

            He turns back to me, both eyes on mine now. "Promise."

            "Then kiss me," I command.

 

BAZ

            These beds are too small for the both of us.  We have to stay practically perpetually in each other's arms or we risk one of us tumbling out.

 _It's. Bloody. Perfect_.

            Although sometimes I don't think I can take being so close for so long. So close I can count every mole on his tawny skin. My heart can't take his wood smoke smell, his breath on my cheek, the warmth of his touch... right now it feels so good it aches. I’m not used to feeling so much all the time. It’s simultaneously too close… and not nearly close enough. And I absolutely never want it to end. And I'm so scared I won't be able to keep it. To protect it. To protect _him_.

            But maybe this kiss can go on forever. Everything else can sod off and wait. Maybe I can keep us here, keep us safe. I'm willing to try, anyway.

            I'd kill everyone in the world to keep Simon safe. That I promise.

* * *

            Snow falls asleep without turning off the light. This close, I can see the scar on his face: it begins just over his left eye and ends about halfway down his cheek. Dr Hightower mended it well; it's so light and fine, you might not notice it if you didn't know it was there. It's the one Dev gave him last March, but I may as well have. Whoever did it, it was _my_ fault.

            If I can't forgive Dev this, then how am I ever going to forgive myself for the one on Simon’s left shoulder? Or the burns on his forearms from the chimera? Or the worst one, not because it looks the worst, but because I didn't _mean_ it: the scar along his jaw from when I sent him flying down the stairs.

            All's fair in love and war, they say. I suppose both were applicable in this case.

            I kiss his jaw, tracing the line of the scar softly, so I don't wake him. _I'm sorry_ , I think. _I'm so sorry._


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another song to go with this chapter like omg this song makes me crrrryyyyy:  
> [the rules for lovers](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O4PfI79ZW3g)
> 
> And thank you so much for the comments!!! they keep me going. I'm glad to be both giving people life and literally killing them with fluff haha. (you can't stop me, I will kill again!)

ANI

            I fake cramps to leave class early and wait outside the Minotaur's room for Pitch. I stay inside even though the snow is finally melting. I wouldn't ask for his help, but what choice do I have? The cards are all closed, Penny and I are completely out of all our supplies. We've made four harnesses. _Four._ How are we going to make a difference in the world with _four harnesses_?

            Snow leaves the class first and gives me an unsure smile. I nod back and he walks off across the lawn. Then Pitch comes out and walks right past me. He's so lost in thought, he doesn't even see me. I have to grab his arm. When he looks down and sees it's me, I let go.

            "I need your help with something."

            "What is it?" His jaw is tight. "Not another...furry friend?"

            I shake my head. Pitch is impatient. I spit it out, "I need money. We've used everything we've got and we need more."

            Pitch gives me an irritated look. "Why do you think I can help you?"

            " _You've_ got money," I start.

            "You all think I've just got pockets lined with gold. My _family_ has money—"

            "I _know_! I _mean_ , you have connections to people with money. We don't need cash, that's a quick fix. We need investors." I stand up straight and cross my arms, holding onto my elbows. "I can't do it. I'm fourteen, and I look about eight."

            Pitch's mouth twitches at one corner. "How can I help, little Lang?"

            "All you have to do is feel people out. Find some people at your club, maybe friends of your parents. Maybe we can work out a demonstration this summer, get some interest. Maybe... find someone with a _reason_ to want to help furry creatures?"

            Pitch nods, he catches my meaning. If there's a rich family with a vampire son, surely there are werewolf children whose parents are desperate to fund a cure.

            "Bring me a business plan. You'll have your first investor and your first pitchman."

            I smile at the pun and nod. I stick out my hand. Pitch takes it with his big, cold hand and we shake. I take a deep breath. That wasn't so bad.

            I wonder, is he technically my employee even if I can't pay him?

 

BAZ

            Snow has a dumb look on his face. Bunce has lent us Pride and Prejudice for the week, but from his expression you'd think it was Eraserhead.

            "You alright there, Snow?" I ask.

            "What is even happening? I can't understand anything they’re saying."

            "Simon, they're speaking English."

            "I _know_ that. But what does it mean he has "ten thousand a year"? Ten thousand what?"

            "Pounds."

            "Is that a lot? And what’s he doing with it? Where does it come from?"

            I frown. "Probably more than a fair sum, back then. I think it’s just from his land holdings or something. It's important because the mother wants her daughters to be married off to rich husbands since there are five of them and they can't inherit their father's estate."

            "Why not?" He turns and gives me an incredulous look.

            "Because that's how it was." I shake my head. "You didn't catch any of that?"

            "No, I'm still trying to get their names straight."

            Snow looks back at the screen and I ask teasingly, "Do you want me to translate? English to Simon Snow-English?"

            He looks insulted, but then his face softens when he realizes it's a genuine offer.

            "Yeah, alright then." He shrugs, and he leans forward and restarts the movie. We weren’t more than twenty minutes in. "You said you hadn't seen this."

            "I haven't. I read the book," I remind him.

            " _Why_?"

            I scoff as Snow leans his head back into my shoulder. I wrap my arms around him, keeping him there. This way I can lean my cheek into his curls, translate directly into his ear.

            “Alright, so the family has five daughters who will all be thrown out of the house if their father should die, which could happen any time. People died younger back in those days. So the mum wants to marry them all off to wealthy husbands so she can stop worrying about them. Now there’s Jane, the pretty one, Lizzie, that’s you, Lydia—”

            “Hang on, why is she me?”

            “Be quiet, you’ll see.” I smile. “Lydia the troublemaker and then there’s the spares, whose names I forget.”

            “Ouch.”

            “Then you have Mr Darcy, that’s me of course— ”

            “ _Of course!_ ” Snow looks up at me. “How come you get to be the bloke?”

            “If you keep interrupting, I’ll make you one of the spares.”

            “You’re a bully,” he says, but I can tell he’s grinning.

            “And his friend Mr Bingley who’s also fabulously wealthy, and much better-looking than Darcy in this one,” I get an elbow in my side from Snow, “and his cruel sister Caroline Bingley.”

            "You sure _that's_ not you?"

            This is my favourite way to watch movies: talking over them with Snow. If I’ve got my arms around him (like now), so much the better. He so warm, and I'm always so cold. It's like dating an electric blanket. (Although I'd wager he's better at snogging.)

            When Bingley comes back on screen and gets adorably tongue-tied, Snow asks, “Can’t I be Bingley instead?”

            “Darcy and Bingley? I could ship it,” I answer.

            But then Darcy insults Lizzie.

            “He’s _so_ mean to her! What an arse! I see it, it’s us.” And then, a while later when Darcy asks her to dance, Snow whispers, “He’s so obvious; he loves her.”

            And he’s right. I’m translating, and at some point Darcy is _going_ to tell Elizabeth he loves her, and I’ve already told him _they_ are _us_. _Fuck._ I didn't think about that. I close my eyes and lean my head back into the bed. I need to start screening movies more carefully.

            Snow has never told me how he feels about me before, much less said " _I love you_." When it comes to Snow's feelings, he's much better at showing than telling. And I’ve never said it, because I’m terrified. Because I’ve felt it for so long, I’ll probably break open if I say it.

_Let him say it first, if at all._

_That’s not fair. I kissed you first! I can’t do everything myself,_ the Snow in my head says.

 _Shut up, you courageous prick,_ I think back at him.

            I know it has to be coming soon when we’re more than an hour in. Snow keeps tilting his head back and looking up at me, and I can’t stop myself from swallowing nervously. (Right in his ear.) We get to the scene, and I _know_ it’s the scene because it’s raining. The music swells. It’s romantic.

            I stop translating.

            “I think you know what he’s saying.” My voice comes out hoarser than I intended.

            Snow pulls out of my arms and faces me. “He loves her.”

            I swallow again. “Yeah— yes. Yes.”

            He’s beaming smugly. “So... you love me?”

             “No,” I deny it before I can stop myself. I swallow again. _Where is all this spit coming from?_ Snow grabs my hand.

            “You’re sweating!” He bites his bottom lip, still grinning.

            "You're too hot," I say, but this just makes him grin wider, his tongue between his teeth.

            At least I haven’t fed, I don’t have to blush. Snow is so close I couldn't hide it.

            “I’ll never kiss you again if you don’t admit it.” I know it’s a bluff. I know Snow can’t help himself (thank magic), that he’ll kiss me no matter what, and his mouth is so close to mine…

            “I love you,” I whisper. It comes out in a rush. I try again. “ _I love you_.”

            He kisses me, slowly. Sucking on my bottom lip, and when he lets go I say it again. My voice is coming back to me now. Simon’s straddling me, so he’s above me and I have to look up. _God, he looks so perfect._ I tangle my hands in the back of his shirt. I say it again and again, after every kiss.

            “I love you.”

            I don’t even care if he says it back.

            “I love you.”

            I just need him to know...

            Until he breaks away and asks, “Why are we fighting?”

            “What?” I don't understand.

            “In the movie. They’re fighting,” he says.

            I shake my head. _Because they don't know how short life can be._

            “Because they’re idiots,” I say.

            He exhales and smiles down at me. He’s so dishevelled and delicious and disarming—

            “I love you,” he answers me. He sounds breathless. “‘ _Most ardently.'_ "

            He's quoting Darcy. I push him back. "That's _my_ line, Snow. Do you even know what it means?"

            "Yeah. Like mad. Like," he brushes my hair back behind my ears, his eyes wide and fixed on mine, "stupidly a lot. Like it's all I think about. Like I never want it to stop. Am I close?"

            "That's about the measure of it."

            "Then it's my line," he says. I kiss his arch smile right off his face. Until his eyebrows knit, so he almost looks pained, and his mouth stays open between kisses. He can't catch his breath... I don't let him.

* * *

            “Let’s skip to the end where they’re happy again,” he asks when we get back to the movie.

            “No.” I shake my head, nuzzling his.

            “No?” There's a pout in his voice.

            “If _I_ had to wait, _they_ have to wait.”


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope y'all don't hate Fall Out Boy:  
> [ the take over, the breaks over](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2tWq5hW5seU)
> 
> (this is a fun chapter so we needed a bop)

SIMON

 _Tap. Tap. Tap_. Three taps is _I love you._

            I'm watching Baz play football, and Marcus is taking a corner kick, so all eyes are on him. Except mine. I'm the only one that sees Baz do it.

            Living with the person you're in love with is like being constantly on fire. (Albeit a warm, _benevolent_ fire.) It's all you can think about. You can't put it out, and everyone is going to notice, no matter how cool you act about it. And, it illuminates everything. Everything is brighter because of it.

            And... it feels like too much. Like the intensity of it is so overwhelming, you might lose it. It might consume you. But then _they're_ there. And they hold you still. And you know that everything, _everything_ is going to be okay.

            (And I go back into care in two weeks.)

            "I'm worried about Agatha." Penny knocks her elbow against mine.

            "Me, too," I agree.

            "She _always_ looks exhausted. She's always sneaking off with Dev, and if Baz doesn't even trust him, why should we?"

            "I don't," I answer.

            "So... what do we do?" She's looking up at me earnestly.

            "Nothing!" I tilt my head and look back at her. "Haven't you learned anything? You tried to tell us not to get together for years, and she ignored you. Then you tried to split us up, and she ignored you. You gave up trying to convince her, and she dumped me. Then she went after Baz, the one person absolutely no one wanted her to be with, not even Baz—"

            "Yeah, but you also went after him," she whispers. "And you also ignored all my advice."

            "Thank magic I did, Penny! You told me to 'play it cool' with Baz." I narrow my eyes. "My point is, you, me, Baz, Niall, and Keris have all told her Dev is bad news. There's only two possibilities."

            Penny shrugs. "And what's that?"

            "Well, she either likes doing the opposite of what people tell her to do, _or_ she knows Dev is bad and likes that."

            "You think she has a thing for bad boys? After she dated you?"

            "Well, she did break up with me. And also," I squint at her and lean my shoulder into hers, "I am _a_ _little_ dangerous."

            Pen just rolls her eyes at that and leans away. "So what _do_ we do?"

            "Just... wait. See what happens. And support her through it." I smile. "If she needs our help, she'll ask for it. Like always."

            Penny goes to get popcorn. A minute later, Baz scores a goal and our side goes mad. Garret slaps him on the arse, and I crack up. Everyone's standing and jumping and singing the school song, but Baz looks up into the crowd and finds me. The corner of his mouth twitches up flirtatiously and he nods, as if to say, _"That was for you."_

 _Tap. Tap. Tap_. I send back.

* * *

            "Do you remember the letter?" I ask. It's been raining all weekend. Even football was cancelled, and we both finished the little homework we had this morning, so we're playing " _Do you remember?_ " to pass the time. I invented this one, too. I ask Baz about something that happened in our past, and he has to tell me what he was really thinking when it happened.

            (Baz can ask me questions, too, but usually it's pointless. I've always got my emotions right on my face, so he already _knows_ what I was thinking.)

            "What letter?" Baz is laying in bed, reading, one hand lazily playing with my hair. I'm sitting on the floor, folding the clean laundry I've let sit all week.

            "The letter you wrote me in Agatha's handwriting last year. Before that big Latin midterm. You said you wanted to meet me under the yew trees?" I turn to look at him. He's got one eyebrow raised.  

            "Did I? Are you sure that wasn't actually Wellbelove?"

            "Why would she make me stand outside all night getting harassed by snow devils?"

            "Why would I?" he quips back. Then after a moment he says, "Didn't she break up with you a few weeks later?"

            "Yeah, so?"

            He raises his eyebrows and doesn't say anything.

            "You think she was trying to break up with me then, and chickened out? And all this time I thought it was you!"

            "You always think the worst of me, Snow. It's your worst quality."

            I climb up into his bed and grab his book from him.

            He makes a sound of annoyance. "At least bookmark the page!"

            I look at the book. "Three hundred and forty-two," I announce, and throw it to the floor.

            I lean one arm over Baz and press my forehead against his. He's wearing one of my t-shirts, we got them mixed up in the dark last night. I rub my nose on his. "Did you _really_ not write the letter?"

            His stormy eyes aren't giving anything away. He's not even blinking. But then the corner of his mouth twitches.

            "You did! I knew it!" I'm laughing now and my laughter feeds his smile.

            "Alright, I wrote the letter!" he says throwing his head back. "I was embarrassed about you finding me drunk in the Catacombs. I wanted to embarrass you back."

            "Why were you drinking down in the Catacombs?" I ask, tangling my fingers up in his.

            "My mother..." he starts to say, and my eyes flick back up to his. She would be buried in the school, if she died here. I don't know how he does it, spends every day in the building where the worst thing in his life happened to him. Have to take class within feet of where his mother was taken from him. I don't ask. I know by now that Baz opens up incrementally. He'll tell me at most one thing, maybe two, before he closes off again. I have to pace myself, not ask him everything all at once.

            (It's his turn anyway.)

            "Do you remember," he begins, rocking our hands side to side between us, "that first day? The casting ceremony? You were so scared... You looked as scared as I felt."

            "You were scared?" I ask.

            "Yes." he rolls his eyes, like I'm getting sidetracked. " _And_ I was angry. It made me angry that you didn't try to hide it like the rest of us. _We're all scared_ , I thought, _but we're not making a bloody production of it_."

            I frown a little and Baz pulls my hand back to his chest.

            " _But_... I wasn't mad that you made me pity you or... I was angry because you were brave enough to act how you feel." Baz kisses my hand."You wear _everything_ on your sleeve. You're so brave, Simon, even when you're terrified."

            "That makes no sense." I laugh, a little embarrassed.

            "I know. _You_ make no sense."

            I lean forward and kiss Baz's soft lips gently. I've lost count now, I don't know how many this makes. But that's okay. As long as it's not the last.

 

BAZ

            Snow goes down to dinner first. Sometimes I'm grateful for the stupid charade we have to keep up. I feel so much all the time now, I need a break for a second. Just a moment to let it all sink in. Otherwise, I think I'm going to drown. Drown in the fire and brimstone smell of him. I think it might actually kill me to be this happy. (It's not in my constitution.)

            It's already May. We've burned through all the movies I brought, some of them twice. I think I've managed to help Snow pull his grades up in every class, and it's almost a year since he's last gone off. The only thing we haven't managed is to do fuck all about the Humdrum.

            We only have five days left, and then what? Snow and I don't talk about the summer. About what's going to happen to us. I know he can't contact me, but it doesn't keep me from wanting to just steal him away with me. I don't even care where we go.

            I'm just wondering how barmy I am for wanting to ask my boyfriend of three months and three days to run away with me when I hear a crash from somewhere near the ramparts. I think it might be thunder, but then I get up and look out the window just as a white, snake-like beast is moving over the top of the wall, and right past our window. It only takes me a second to realize it's a guivre.

 _Chomsky's arse_. I send Dev off to find the third most protected magical species in the entire world, and he manages to get one. Even _with_ me interfering.

 _How did I let this happen?_ I think, practically flying down the stairs. I've been too distracted. How has he kept it hidden, kept it _fed_? He doesn't have the magic for it, not alone. Niall would never go behind my back like this...

            By the time I reach the courtyard, the great wingless, flying serpent is chasing a crowd of students into the White Chapel. It must be starved, it's blue forked tongue is lapping at their heels. I cast **_Hear ye, hear ye_ ** on myself.

            "Oi!" My voice carries even through the rain and the monstrous lizard turns to face me. _It probably only understands French._ "Viens-ici, connard!"

            It listens and screeches toward me. All fifteen meters of it.

 _Putain de merde._ Thank magic I'm fast.

 

SIMON

            I'm just about to take my first bite of shepherd's pie when Baz calls me from across the dining hall.

            "Snow!" he yells, and it sounds like a challenge. We don't have a fight planned for tonight, so I think maybe he's just improvising, but then I see the look on his face. And then I see _his_ panic is copied on the faces of all the students pouring in from the courtyard. I stand and call my sword and try to look pissed off as I run after him.

            When I get close enough to Baz, he explains rapidly under his breath, "Remember when I said I sent Dev on a wild goose chase? Well, he's caught the goose and it's here."

            "Well? What the hell is it doing?" I ask.

            "Eating magic. We have to stop it, come on."

            The double doors to the Weeping Tower are closed and something is throwing itself against it. Penny must have just come in: she's soaked and her hair is wild and her face is a portrait of disbelief. She sees Baz and me and points to the door.

            "What in Morgana's name is that?" Pen shouts.

            "Guivre," Baz answers. The guivre, whatever that is, pounds against the door again.

            "What's it doing?"

            "Eating magic. Long story." Baz waves her questions off. "Do you trust me?"

            "Why, Baz?" There's a note of worry in her voice. The door is hit again, and I can feel the tower shake.

            "Just— do you trust me?" he insists.

            "Yeah, we do. Now, what do we do?" I lift my sword in case the door doesn't hold.

            "We have ..." Baz swallows. "We have to get naked."

_What?_

            "Stevie Nick's, I will not!" Penny shrieks.

            "They're shy, they can't stand human nudity." Baz is already unbuttoning his shirt.

            " _Completely_ naked?" I ask. This is really not how I expected seeing Baz completely naked for the first time would go. (There's a lot more people and one more cryptid present than I'd planned for.)

            "I don't know!" he shouts angrily, pulling off his shoes. "Just do it."

            "Can't we just, put it in a bubble or something?" Penny squeals.

            " _It. Eats. Magic._ " Baz is undoing his belt. I feel my fingers starting to undo mine, but I don't really feel in control of my hands. Then I'm pulling my shirt over my head. Penny is horror-stricken.

            "It's okay, we've got this," I tell her. Though I'm not sure we do. I try to think of more embarrassing things I've done, so this doesn't feel as bad, but nothing's coming to mind. My cheeks are burning, and Baz's are tinged the slightest pink. He holds my eyes. _At least we're in this together._

            Baz counts to three and Penny flings open the door.

            The guivre (which it turns out looks like a wingless dragon) was midway through lunging forward to batter the great wooden door again, and is momentarily stunned. Its bright blue eyes the size of footballs catch sight of Baz and me.

            It rears back and I think it's going to strike, but then it coils itself around and around until its face is completely hidden buy about a dozen meters or so of tail. It's... hiding. It's ashamed _for_ us.

_Me too, mate._

            I raise my sword again.

            "Stop!" Baz shouts. "It's not evil! Just hungry. "

            "Then what do we do?" I ask. "You said we can't use magic, and I'm not standing here starkers all day."

            Everyone in the school that hasn’t fled for their lives has gathered round the front hall to watch. I can hear some of the girls from the lower years laughing now that the danger is momentarily postponed. Baz is trying to think of something. (I’m deliberately, desperately looking at his face.)

            "Feed it," he says. Then hisses so no one else can hear, "Give it your magic. Touch it."

            I stow my sword and swallow hard. I have to make this look good, like I'm just calming the great thing. It's still hovering in the air, so I'll have to reach up to it. I try to figure out where the head might be within the ball of scale and muscle that writhes as I place my left hand on its great belly and start to push. I can feel my magic sinking through its skin, like dipping a spoon in pudding. I stroke its back with my other hand, careful of the spines, and whisper a bunch of bollocks at it.

            "Good dragon... thing. You're a good boy... or something.  You don't want to eat anyone, do you?" I can feel its muscles relax under my hand. It's actually quite beautiful up close, its scales are iridescent.

            "Baz, I think it's working. Hand me my pants." He doesn't answer. "Baz!"

            I hear a belt buckle jingle so I hold out my right hand, but he's not handing me anything. I take a chance and look back at him and see he's half dressed already.

            " _Are you fucking kidding me?_ "

            "What? You've got a handle on it, no need for both of us to be indecent."

            I'd laugh if there weren't a hundred people staring at me. I must be red from my ears to my arse.

            "Penny—" I start to say, but Baz cuts me off.

            "Focus! You're losing her!"

            I can feel the guivre moving again. It's pulling away, and I hear someone calling it. Someone coming through the rain toward us.

_Agatha?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guess who forgot to put translations in!
> 
> Baz says "Come here, asshole"  
> then  
> "Fucking shit"


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this might be the only chapter where each of the main four get a POV... huh.
> 
> almost to the end folks!
> 
> this song is for this chapter and the next i guess:  
> [Love Will Tear Us Apart](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kzCJkm711rk)

SIMON

            "Esdras! Esdras!" Agatha calls through the downpour.

            The beast is peaking its head out, one eye cautiously searching for the source of the sound. It turns to Agatha and whips out of my hand so fast its tail knocks me back. Baz lets me fall on my arse and laughs. Penny's shoving my clothes in my arms, looking everywhere but directly at me.

            "What is Miss Wellbelove doing?" I hear Miss Possibelf gasp from behind me. Oh, great. Someone must have run and got her.

            I look back to Agatha while pulling my trousers on without pants (no time for pants). She’s got her wand raised and there’s something silvery flowing out from both her hands. The guivre is eating it up, literally. It’s lapping all the silvery threads right from the air. The rain isn’t even touching them; they look like they’ve frozen time. I didn’t know Agatha had it in her. She looks more beautiful than ever: her eyes are half closed and her pale hair is shining in the light of her magic.

            Agatha’s calling its name more softly now and the beast's erratic movements slow to a sway. Miss Possibelf is moving cautiously forward, trying to help without startling either of them.

            I’m pulling on my shirt and Baz says in a low voice beside me. “I knew Dev couldn’t handle one on his own. Your girl’s been helping him.”

            “She’s not—” I start to correct him, but he’s probably just saying that for the benefit of the crowd. They’ve all pressed around the door to watch. I don’t blame them, this is probably the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen. Certainly the most beautiful end to a battle I’ve been involved in.

            “Is she alright?” Penny asks. Agatha’s exhausted, she’s leaning forward like she’s going to fall. The serpent lowers itself almost to the ground, so its great head is level with Agatha’s. Agatha falls forward and for a split second I think it’s going to eat _her_ , but then…

            They’re _cuddling_. Everyone is aww-ing at the sight, but Baz, Penny and I just look at each other. First of all, how come we only get the beasts that want to shred you to bits? And secondly—

            “I thought she was done with all of this? Fighting and dragons.”

            “Well, she’s not fighting,” Penny says.

            “And that’s not a dragon. Technically,” Baz adds.

            I shake my head. At least maybe now everyone will be talking about how the prettiest girl in school saved their lives, and my being naked will just be a footnote?

            Maybe.

            (I can hope.)

 

BAZ

            Snow covers his face and moans, "I can't believe you made me get naked in front of the whole school."

            We're back in the tower. Bunce drew the metaphorical short straw and is off waiting to interrogate Wellbelove, after the Mage and Miss Possibelf are done with her. There’s still no sign of Dev.

            "At least we got that over with." I sigh, smoothing my hair back. It's getting too long. "About time."

            " _You looked?_ " Snow drops his hands and looks distraught.

            "You didn't?" I smirk.

            "No!" He folds his arms and I walk over and put mine around him.

            "Why not? _I_ looked." Of course I bloody well looked. I'd been fantasizing about looking for years.

            "I was _trying_ to be decent."

            "Trying to be decent?" I put on a mocking voice. "That's adorable, really. Just _charming_ , Simon. Such a gentleman."

            I pull him close, our foreheads touching. He's looking defiantly up at me.

            "Cheeky bastard," he whispers, frowning.

            "Prude," I tease back. He gives me a wet kiss. I don't close my eyes, I just watch him. When he breaks away again I say, "You needn't look so put out. You can look whenever you like."

            "Yeah?”

            I nod. He seems mollified. His cheeks are still crimson but he's starting to smile—

            “Alright. Let's see, then," he dares me.

            "Crowley, I was bluffing!" I choke out with a laugh.

            Snow kisses me again. "I know."

            I loosen my grip on him and he uncrosses his arms. He grabs my— _his_ — shirt and looks at my chest. "I'm glad you were there. I would have killed it."

            "They're protected creatures," I say. "I should know, I own a pair."

            "Do you?" he asks, disbelieving.

            "I had to call all the exotic magickal animal dealers in France _and_ England, tell them not to sell to Dev or they wouldn't sell again. The ones who already had guivre eggs on hand said they wouldn't miss a chance to move their stock, so I moved it for them. Sent them to a preservation range in the south of France."

            “You did what?” he laughs.

            “What was I supposed to do?” I shake my head.

            "You're like an accidental conservationist."

            “Well, I don’t think the guivres care one way—"

            Snow cuts me off with a kiss. I don’t know if it’s the embarrassment, the fight, my incidental altruism, or what, but he’s kissing me so passionately I’m afraid he’s going to cut himself on my fangs. He moves across my cheek and down my neck, pulling at my skin intensely. I think he might bruise me if I'd had anything to drink today. My legs go liquid.

            “Simon,” I gasp.

            “Hmm?” he responds, and the vibration tickles my neck.

            “Nothing. Just… keep doing that.”

 

PENELOPE

            I wait in Ani's room and watch as the Mage's men lock the guivre into chains and lead it off the school grounds. I watch as Dev is carried into the Weeping Tower on a stretcher, though I couldn't see where he came from. And I'm still watching hours later as Agatha walks slowly back to the Cloisters alone. I catch her at the foot of the stairs.

            Her face is pale and she looks shaken... weak. For a second I feel sorry for her, but when she sees me a wave of relief washes over her face. She thinks I'm here to see how _she_ is.

            “How could you do this?” I snap.

            The relief is gone just like that. “Do what? Dev couldn’t take care of her on his own!”

            “Agatha! He only had the thing in the first place to attack Simon! How can you not see that?”

            “Why would Dev want to attack Simon? He doesn’t care about any of that. He _told_ me." Her bottom lip is trembling. She's long past the point of composure. "He said _that_ was always Baz, and now he's done following his orders."

            "It _was_ his orders! Baz told him to do this. It was a snark hunt! He knew Dev couldn't pull it off on his own, and none of us, including me, thought you would be stupid enough to help him!"

            "Why are _you_ stupid enough to just believe everything Baz says? Are you all suddenly in love with him? Dev was trying to _help._ He found Esdras. He was— _we_ were— nursing her back to health!"

            "Since when?" I demand.

            She folds her arms as if it might help her support herself. "Ages."

            "Since you got back together? Did he find her just before you got back together?"

            "No," she hesitates. "Just after... just after Christmas... She'd just hatched."

            "Did he keep her in the moat?"

            Agatha doesn't answer, so I know I'm right. One thing I've learned in all our researching of  magickal creatures, guivres _usually_ live in streams. They need the constant flow of the water. Being chained up in a moat would be agony. Like trying to breathe in a vacuum. No one who cared about one would do that to it.

            "He needed someone good with water, someone with stronger magic than him. He _used_ you," I say firmly. Agatha is crying now. I _do_ feel sorry for her, but that doesn't excuse what she did. "He starved the guivre so it would go after Simon's magic."

            " _No_ ," she whispers insistently. I don't want to be the one to do this. I wish she'd figured it out herself.

            "Then why haven't you been feeding her? Why was she so hungry today if you've been helping feed her?"

            She doesn't even wipe her tears, just lets them flow. She's glaring fiercely down at me from the steps, unmoving.

            "You still don't believe me? Go ask him yourself! They carried him to the infirmary an hour ago."

            Her face transforms with shock, then anger. "Why didn't you tell me?"

            She pushes past me, back out into the rain, into the night.

 

AGATHA

            Why does Penny have to be such a know-it-all? She's only known about Esdras a few hours and she's already figured it all out, hasn't she? But she's wrong, she has to be wrong.

 _But then why did Dev tell me Esdras was gone if she wasn't?_ _Why did he say two weeks ago he'd found a place for her to go? A sanctuary..._

            Why did he bring me to her to say goodbye?

            And what's going to happen to her now? Does he even care? If he really starved her for two weeks...

            I try to run, but I'm too tired. I'm out of breath before I'm halfway up the steps of the Weeping Tower. I just want to sleep. When I get to the top of the stairs, I have to stop to catch my breath. To cry. To find my nerve again. I slip in the bathroom to fix my face, but I just can't do anything about my red nose.

            The nurse lets me in, and I think Dev is sleeping until he hears my footsteps and opens his eyes. He looks... I don't know. Something is different. He looks... off.

            "Are you alright?" I ask.

            Dev just looks away. "What are you doing here?"

            "I—" Why isn't he glad to see me? "You lied to me. Why?"

            That isn't what I want to say. I want to ask if he's hurt. I want to ask what's wrong. I want to tell him I love him, tell him I forgive him. That I know he wouldn't have hidden this from me without a reason.

            He laughs. It's hollow and humourless. "Well, no one ever said you were clever."

            He's hurt. He's just hurting me because he's hurt. "Did you know what she would do?"

            Dev's lip curls into an amused smile. " _You_ knew. You had to know! She eats magic, kid. Admit it, you wanted to get back at him. You knew what you were doing."

            No. _No._ Penny can't be right. This isn't him, this isn't Dev. This has Baz written all over it: the chimera, the voice stealer...

            "You used me," I choke out. Dev shakes his head and closes his eyes. He looks as tired as I feel. "Aren't you even sorry? You made me believe you cared about me!"

            His voice is low, flat, dead. "I did care about you."

            "How could you lie to me? How could you hurt my friends, hurt... hurt _me_ if you loved me?" My voice is rising hysterically. I don't want him to do this—to _be able_ to do this—to me.

            "Love has nothing to do with it. Everyone hurts the ones they love. Just because I hurt you doesn't mean I didn't love you."

            "Yes! It does!" I sound like a child. I try to breathe deep, to keep calm. But I just start crying all over again. I'm sobbing and he just looks... _annoyed_. He hates it when I cry. He says I do it to guilt him.

            Dev takes a deep breath and looks away. "It's over, kid. That's it."

            "No!" I don't know what I want him to say, but not this. Never this. "I forgive you. I just want to know why you did it. Please, just tell me so I can forgive you."

            "You don't understand, I don't _want_ to be forgiven. I don't want to work this out. Do you really want to argue someone back into a relationship with you?" Dev's eyes are like ice. They're always like ice, dusky brown and unsmiling.  "How could I ever want to be with someone so weak?"


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short one today, sorry! 
> 
> finished the story last night. last chapter will go up Wednesday as promised!
> 
> <3 you all!

BAZ

            It's a few days before the news makes it to Niall, and then to me. I don't tell Simon that Dev has lost his magic. That the guivre _ate_ it all. I knew it would happen. That even if he succeeded in everything else, he'd take himself down with Snow. That's why I never tried it myself, even though I thought of it our fifth year. I've learned long ago what you risk fighting fire with fire when you are also flammable.

            The end of year ceremony is tomorrow. Maybe Snow doesn't have to find out. Dev's family will hush it up, and by the autumn it will be a distant memory. Who's going to miss Dev anyway?

            Except Wellbelove. She's crying all through dinner. She's been crying nonstop. I tried to warn her, we _all_ tried to warn her. (Though, I suppose, if I’d listened to everyone about Snow…) It doesn't matter. Dev got his, in the end.

            I get back to the room and start to pack my things away. I'm moving as slowly as possible, as if I could actually make time stop by willpower alone. I'm terrified. What's going to happen? Snow won't be able to contact me, and I won't even know where he is. How am I going to survive it? How are _we_ going to survive it? Three months is a long time. What if...

            I don't even know what if, but what if?

            Snow bangs into the room like a dragon with a temper and I purse my lips, about to scold him, then kiss him. (I haven't kissed him since this morning.) But then I see the look on his face.

            "You knew. You knew what would happen to him. And you let him do it anyway."

            "Snow, you're going to have to be more specific. What am I supposed to have known?" Simon's magic is washing over me like the rising tide. It feels unpleasant, like seasickness. 

            "You know bloody well! You told him to do it. You knew he'd lose his magic. You _planned_ on that. To get him out of the way."

            "I don't know what you want me to say. You know I tried to stop him from getting a guivre, right? I have no idea how he worked it out—"

            "How could you let that happen?" Snow barrels right on. He's holding his hands out in front of him, like he's going to throttle me. I don't back down. "You _said_ you felt guilty about Philippa. You knew this would happen— you _wanted_ this. You knew he couldn't handle it on his own—"

            He shakes his head and the air ripples around him. I take him by the shoulders, but he’s heaving. He's _seething_. Boiling hot under my hands. I let him go.

            "He knew the risks. It's Dev, not some innocent bystander. Simon, you're forgetting he wanted that thing to do this to you. Have you forgotten what he _already_ did to you? Because I haven't!" I can feel myself on the verge of fuming. Why doesn't he get it? I had to do something, I couldn't let him just walk away. "He crossed me, and he knew the consequences."

            Snow turns away and grabs his head in both hands, elbows splayed. "You... you did this... for _me_? This was _revenge_?" he says it like the word tastes of raw sewage. He can't steady his breathing. "I don't want that. Don't... _ever_... do that."

            "You're surprised?" I'm getting defensive, I know, but I can't help it. It’s his magic, and— I didn't expect him to be grateful, but— "You _know_ who I am, Snow. _How_ can you be surprised?"

            "Can't you see that you're ruining it? You can’t act like this! You could have hurt people."

            "That was the _point_ , to hurt Dev." And it's too late to take it back.

            "You can't just— you just lash out! You don't even care who gets in the way. You're responsible for the casualties. Can't you see that?"

            "That's new, you're an atomic bomb and you're lecturing _me_ about collateral damage?"

            No. _No._ Why did I say that? Why the fuck am I like this?

            Simon's already out the door. I know he's just running to protect me, to keep from going off here. But I panic. I follow him anyway.

 

AGATHA

            I'm on my way back to the Cloisters when I see a blur running toward the front gates. It must be Simon; even from here I can feel his magic. I look back at Mummers House and Baz is running as fast as he can after him. They're both smudges in the twilight from here, and neither of them notices me watching.

            Is this it? Is Baz finally making his move?

_Penny didn't believe me!_

            Simon's in trouble. Maybe this is my chance, maybe I can make up for everything I've done.

_I should get Penny._

            I shove the thought down. She won't believe me, and even if she does, she'll insist we do everything her way. For once, I want to call the shots.

            I start to run after them. I'm fast, faster than Simon probably, on a normal day. Lacrosse has built my lungs up so I don't tire even though it takes me five minutes or so to find them in the Wavering Woods. I stay behind a tree and pull my wand out from the back pocket of my shorts. Baz is much more powerful than me, I won't stand a chance if I can't surprise him.

            I can feel Simon's magic. It hits me like vertigo and I cling to the bark of the tree to steady myself. Maybe I should stand back, maybe he'll go off and won't know I'm here. This could be dangerous...

            But then Baz makes his move, he rushes forward and grabs Simon. I start to leave my hiding place, thinking wildly for a good spell, but Baz already has his hands on Simon's cheeks. Then... he's lifting Simon's face up to look at him. Simon is shaking, and I think Baz is going to bite him, but...

_Merry Morgana. Merry fucking Morgana._

            Does Baz have Simon under his thrall? Don't vampires have that, a thrall? That's got to be it. That's the only explanation. Otherwise, why the hell would Simon be letting him kiss him?

 

SIMON

            I hear something quite like air being let out of a tire and my head snaps toward the sound. _Agatha_. Well, I guess now she knows. We only kept it from her in case she accidentally let something slip to Dev.

_But the look on her face..._

            I want to reach out to her, but Baz still has my hands.

            "Aga—"

            Then she's gone. And the woods are gone. Everything's gone. It's just me and Baz. And the dry, raw scrape of the Humdrum.


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please enjoy a refreshing song with your (penultimate) chapter:  
> [i found](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PbSZhGONRBg)

BAZ

            Every inch of my skin itches. I hear something calling like a were beast, but my fangs don't come. I don't get that surge of adrenaline.

            "Lancashire," Snow says plaintively. He's looking over my shoulder and I turn to see the source of the sound. There's a monstrous twisted sculpture like something from one of my nightmares making a chorus of howls as the wind blows through it. There's empty grassy hills all around us, and I can see the lights just flicking on in a tiny town a couple kilometers or so away.

            "Did you bring us—" I begin to ask, but when I turn back to Snow, we're not alone.

 

SIMON

            I don't know how I know it's the Insidious Humdrum, but I know. He's standing there with my red rubber ball, in my clothes... in my _skin_. He's the spit of me when I first came to Watford. A shock of fear bolts up my spine.

_What the hell is he playing at?_

            "Show yourself!" I growl, dropping Baz's hands. "Stop that! You bloody coward, show yourself!"

            The Humdrum's face cracks into a wide and wild smile, and he just laughs. Like he can't help it.

            "Stop it!" I reach for my magic and the Humdrum's eyes pop excitedly. "Show me your face."

            I start to call my sword, but Baz grabs my arm and I look up into his dark eyes. His voice is quiet; I barely hear him over the howling and the laughter. "Let me."

            I push some of my magic into him. It feels like I'm filling a swimming pool with a teacup. He's completely run dry here. I let him draw from me as he needs and my chest opens up like a current.

 ** _"Till death do you part,"_** Baz casts, and it's nasty, dark magic. His wand sprays molten liquid and it hits the Humdrum straight in the chest—

_And he absorbs it._

            His face lights up like it's Christmas.

            "What the fuck?" Baz asks.

            I don't know. _I don't know, I don't know..._

 ** _“You shall not pass!”_** A containment shield pops into existence just long enough to shatter into glittery shards and dissolve.

 ** _"Ashes to ashes,"_** Baz booms. He's not pulling any punches.

            The Humdrum hiccoughs, and for a second I think it might be working. He’s burning from the inside.

            Then he _giggles_. Baz might as well have tickled him for all the good it did.

            "We need to run." Baz pulls me hard. He’s shaking his head like my magic is too much for him. I pull back.

            "No, we need to fight!"

            "We can't fight it with magic," he argues. The Humdrum is still giggling and tossing his ball up and catching it. I spring forward and swipe it out of the air. The Humdrum stops laughing. His eleven-year-old face fills with fury, and it would almost be comical if I didn’t know what he was capable of. I throw the ball at his contorted face, and it goes right through him. 

I start to call again for my sword.

            Baz yanks my arm so hard that I either have to run after him or fall on the ground. He’s so much stronger than me, and he’s right. We can’t go on like this in a dead spot, even _my_ magic is going dry.

            We run and don't look back.

 

BAZ

            We get out of the dead spot, and head toward the town. We run until Snow can't take it anymore. I think the blood loss is making him weak. Blood and pus and—. My fangs have popped. I don't know if the Humdrum followed, but we can't stay here. I can’t take the smell of him.

            I keep casting **_There's no place like home_** , but nothing's happening. Snow's pushing magic into me again and I feel momentarily elated. It's so much power, my head is swimming with it. I could rearrange the stars. Or level the town.

**_“There's no place like home_ ** **.”**

            The spell's not working. Maybe it’s too far. I thought at first it would take us _home_ home, in Hampshire. Then Watford, since it _feels_ more like home, actually. But then, that's only because Snow's there.

            Except... Snow's _here_.

 _Shit_. It's not going to work because it _is working_. I already am home.

 _Crowley_.

            "You have to do it. I can't," I burst out.

            "Why not? It won't work for me. I don't have a home, Baz!"

            "Yes you do, it's Watford. You've seen the movie, you know the words. Just do it. You know what it means to want to go home better than anyone. Just try!" I shout angrily.

            He's still bleeding out of his pores, I don't even think he's noticed, and I don't know how much longer I can stand it. I'm so close, the scent fills my nose, my mouth, my throat...

            I grit my teeth. I won’t bite. "Try!"

 

SIMON

            I do. I pull Baz tight to me and click my heels. My wand is still in my pocket, but it doesn't matter. The magic is in me, it's in Baz, it's spilling out of us like molten rubies.

 ** _"There's no place like home, there’s no place like home, there’s no place like home,"_** I whisper into a fistful of Baz's hair.

            And suddenly, everything is quiet. When Baz realizes where we are (back in our room) he shoves me off of him.

            "The blood—Simon, you need to get away from me." But I'm so relieved, that we're alive, that Baz is alive, that I was able to save us (with a spell, for once), that I take a step toward Baz to hold him again.

            "Stop! Don't! I can't take it!" I've never heard him like this. He's screaming, panicking, and I back up because I actually am afraid. Not that he'll hurt me, exactly. I've just never seen him so unnerved, and I've seen him fight a chimera. Baz who’s always calm, who always keeps it together. I touch my face, and when I pull my hand away, it's dripping blood.

            Baz holds up his wand between us and starts casting something in another language, something complicated, on himself. I know right away that it's the curse again, so he can't touch me. Can't _bite_ me.

            "Stop! Baz, please!" I run to the bathroom and clamber into the shower, turning the water on without taking off my clothes. I’m scrubbing my face with my hands, but blood is still flowing freely.

            "Get the Mage. Get the nurse! Get Penny!" I shout, and I hear Baz slam our door.

            The Mage finds me bleeding in the shower, soaked through. I don't know where Baz has gone, and I can’t go after him yet. I have to tell the Mage about the Humdrum. About how he pulled me half across the country. About how he was wearing my face. I tell him everything. Everything except that Baz was there.

            "We need to go back. I know where he is. We can fight him." The words are pouring out of me as fast as the blood.

            "You can't go anywhere, Simon," the Mage says, smoothing my wet hair back. He's still casting healing spells on me, but I've lost so much blood...

            "No, we can, sir. You and me. If we hurry—" The Mage says something with magic and my eyes close without me telling them to.

            When I wake again, Penelope is by my side. The nurse is there. I'm still in my room. My bed. But no Mage. No Baz.

            I try to sit up.

            "Where is he?" My head swims.

            "The Humdrum isn't here." Penny strokes my cheek with the back of her hand and when she pulls it away, it's clean. No blood.

            " _No_. Where is he?" I moan.

            "The Mage has gone to assemble the Coven," the nurse says in a soothing voice. "He'll be in to check on you as soon as he's able."

            I look into Penny's worried brown eyes. "Did he go? Did he leave again?"

            "No," she whispers. She leans in close and I can smell sage. "His things are here. He'll come back. I promise."

            "Okay. Okay." I lean back into the pillows. Some are Baz's, I can smell him. Penny wipes the tears off my cheeks. "Okay, okay..."

            I must say it a hundred times, trying to convince myself that it actually _is_ okay. I think the nurse gave me something for the blood loss, because I can't stay awake even though I want to wait up for him. I have to see him… He has to say goodbye this time...

*** * ***

            I must be hallucinating, or having a fever dream, because I was _just_ fighting the Humdrum, and now I think I can hear singing. _Maybe it's a spell._

            "Don't go," I whisper. The singing stops.

            "I won't," he promises.


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> two songs for this chapter!
> 
>  
> 
> [Placebo's Running Up That Hill](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x5GuBa4Bbnw)
> 
>  
> 
> [Judee Sill's Jesus Was a Cross Maker](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z8tDmPmC_Bk)
> 
>  
> 
> Here we go!  
> (The last chapter is so hard to let go of!!)

BAZ

            She picks up after the seventh ring. It's seven in the morning, but I want to reach her before she leaves for work.

            "Things must be bad if you're calling me for the first time in a year," Dr Hightower greets me. I don't ask how she knew who it was.

            I feel like an idiot. I wanted to call her when things were good. I wanted to tell her I got everything she thought I deserved. But I guess I was waiting for the other shoe to fall. Didn't want to tell her he loved me back and then have it all go to hell. And now here I am. I'm on the school phone and now I don't even know what I _can_ say.

            “Do you think… do you think people get what they deserve?”

            “Not usually, no,” she answers. "But they’re more likely to get what they work for."

*** * ***

            I walk the grounds for a while, then send a bird for Bunce. I know she went to bed around four, but there isn't much time. I have to leave at noon. The sun is rising over the hills and the day is already heating up. Summer is just around the corner.

            When she finds me under the yew trees, she doesn't look like she slept at all. I didn't tell her this part last night because I didn't know what it meant. Because I was _afraid_ of what it meant.

            She sits down beside me and I don't try to move away. I'm too tired. She looks worried. But also... also like she _knows_ something.

            “Penny, the Humdrum... It’s Simon, it looks just like Simon."

            She doesn't react.

            "You knew?"

            "No, I didn’t know what it looked like," she answers carefully.

            "But you knew it was him?" I say accusingly. "Why didn't you—"

            "Dr Lang figured it out. I was praying he was wrong." She closes her eyes.

            "So, Simon doesn't even know he does it? That it's him ripping the holes in the magickal atmosphere?" Bunce shakes her head. "Do you think _he_ created the Humdrum? Without knowing it?"

            She chews her lip. "I've had a long time to think about it. I think... when he went off the first time, when his magic came to him, it must have happened then. It tore a hole in magic, and that hole is what we call the Insidious Humdrum."

            "That's why he looks eleven." She looks confused. "The Humdrum. He's just like Simon the first time I saw him. I thought... I don't know, I thought I was projecting it or something. Like... like it was wearing my worst fear: meeting Simon as my enemy again. But Snow saw him, too."

            "I don't think Simon can defeat him," she says, looking at her hands in her lap. "Dr Lang thought that, if they touched, they would cancel each other out. Like matter and anti-matter. They would destroy one another."

            "Why didn't you tell him?” Bunce and Snow have a rule: no secrets. How could she do this? “What if he'd touched him yesterday? He nearly did!"

            She puts her head in her hands. "I know, I know! _I'm sorry._ I was trying to find a flaw. I wanted to prove him wrong. It took me forever to get Ani to let me read her father's books and I thought, if we could just make it to summer—"

            "That's why it doesn't attack in summer, isn't it? Because Snow doesn't use his magic."

            She's chewing her lip again.

            "If Simon tries to destroy it, it will destroy him." She takes a deep breath. "But _you_ could do it. You can use his power, he can’t."

            "We tried that. I told you. He just absorbed anything we threw at him."

            "Yes, but you didn't try _everything_." Her voice is panicked, the words are spilling out. "We just need to find the spell, the one that will close the hole, or fill it or.. or... It was never visible before, maybe it's getting stronger. Maybe it will become corporeal and we can fight it a different way—"

            "No. Bunce—you don't get it. I _can't_ keep using his magic. Why do you think I've been doing this? Helping _him_ control it? I'm not supposed to do it, he is."

            "Who cares who does it–”

            "Crowley, for once in your life actually listen to me!" Bunce closes her mouth and blinks at me, waiting. "I _can't_ do it. _I_ did this to Dev. I wanted him out of the way, of course, but mostly I just wanted to hurt him. I _hurt_ people. That's what I'm good at. I can't even—"

            I think of the fight with Simon last night.

            "I can't even stop when I _want_ to. But that's what you need, you and him. You need someone willing to go to the ends of the earth to protect you. To do whatever it takes. Someone with no… no _soul_ who can do what needs to be done."

            She shakes her head slowly.

            "Look what I do with the power I _have_. I can't handle his, too. It won’t end with the Humdrum. _It won’t end_."

            She sighs and looks out at the road that leads back to town. She shakes her head again. Like it's all nonsense. I fold my arms, about to lose my temper and shout at her. Maybe then she'll get it. But then she says:

            "So? Jesus was a cross maker."

            " _What?_ "

            "Jesus was a cross maker. He was a carpenter, he made crosses." She crosses her arms too and shrugs.

            " _I know_ , but what in Chomsky's name does that have to do with anything?"

            "It _means_ nobody's perfect, Baz." I roll my eyes mightily, but she continues, "Look, you're not the worst things you've done. Nor the best. You're all of them. You helped Maggie—"

            I cut her off, "I would have killed her, if I had to."

            "Yeah, but you didn't. You _could_ have killed her on sight. It's what the Mage would have done."

            "Fuck the Mage," I spit.

            "My point is, you're all of those things. Very bad, _and_ very good. Your shitty need for revenge _and_ your selfless love for Simon."

            I look away. Her stare is too intense.

            "He _can't_ do it. We might lose him if he tries," she urges.

            I close my eyes. I curl up, knees bent, arms crossed on top of them, head tipped forward.

            "He was supposed to be... the one thing in my life... the _one thing_ that wasn't fucked up."

            "Everyone is fucked up," she answers in a voice meant to soothe.

            "Not like this. He's the greatest threat to magic, Penny. _Simon._ "

            She laughs, but it's without humour.

            "What do I say to him?" I ask.

            "Oh no. I don't give relationship advice anymore. You're on your own." She shakes her head, tossing her dark waves of hair.

            I exhale, steel myself. She's wrong. I'm not on my own. Not anymore.

 

SIMON

            When you're lost, you're supposed to stay where you are. I've always hated that. If you're lost, you should _do_ something. Try to get unlost. But if you stay put, there's a better chance someone will find you. Someone who knows the way. So I stay put. Waiting in our room.

            Penelope said he would come back. All his things are still here, packed neatly by the door. (Maybe he's sending for them later.) (Maybe he'll just buy all new things.)

            I keep twisting my gold chain in my fingers. I wear it tucked under my shirt now, with only the chain visible, so no one is any the wiser that the cross is gone for good.

            When I hear footsteps on the stairs I don't let myself hope that it's him. It could be Penny. Or the Mage. Or the nurse even, though I feel fine now. Physically.

            Then he opens the door, and I see the relief on my face mirrored in his. I stand and rush over to him before I remember he was casting the curse on himself last night.

_Can I touch him...?_

            Baz puts a hand on my cheek and I lean into it, closing my eyes. _Thank magic._

            "You're crying already?" Baz chides me.

            I laugh. "Just glad you came back, you knob."

            I look at him and his face is pained, his mouth a straight line. His grey eyes look cloudy. I hold his gaze. "I'll always come back for you, Simon."

            I shake my head. "What do we do? When do you leave?"

            We still haven't talked about it.

            "We've got three hours. But you can't cry the whole time. This is the last time I'm going to see you for three months; I don't want to have to picture you like this until then."

            I laugh again, but another tear falls against my will. "Okay."

*** * ***

            "I'm sorry," Baz says. It's so weird to hear those words in his voice.

            "For what?" He’s pressed against me in his bed again, our hands locked together.

            "Dev."

            "No you're not." I shoot him a sceptical look.

            "No. But I'm sorry I hurt you." That's true. I can tell from his eyes. They narrow ever so slightly when he lies.

            "I still love you," I say wonderingly, "even if you're deplorable."

            He sighs and starts to roll away from me but I jerk his hand back toward me so he can't. He pulls our hands to his lips and kisses mine.

            "Don't do it again. Don't... hurt people for me."

            Baz looks suddenly serious. "You don't get it, do you? I'm not letting anyone hurt you ever again."

            I turn onto my back and heave a sigh. He's impossible. "Can we compromise?  No murders... dismemberments... No stealing people's magic?"

            "What does that even leave me?" he asks, but I turn and see he's teasing me. He's got that devilish grin. I trace his bottom lip and he catches my hand again, kissing my palm.

            "Don't," I whisper.

            Baz looks up, his eyebrows raised.

            "I'm going to have to forget that in..." I look at his watch, "forty-two minutes. I'll have to block it out or it will drive me mad till..."

            "Where are you going?" he asks in a rush.

            "I don't know." I won't know until I get on a train this afternoon.

            "How can I find you?"

            "No one has, yet. Except Penny possessed the old man at the shop once— that’s off limits too," I warn.

            "Don't go." It's an order. "We'll go somewhere."

            "Where?"

            "I don't care."

            "Your dad's already on his way."

            "I don't care." He sounds less sure of himself.

            "Do you think Vera told him about me coming at Christmas?"

            "Absolutely not. She knows when to keep her mouth shut. And she knows my father. Knows what he thinks of… people like me."

            "But she kept hanging around—"

            "Because she likes Mordelia and me. She practically raised me after my mother died. Crowley, you _are_ paranoid. Come here."

            He pulls me into his arms and it's not until he's got them locked tight around me that I realize just how hard this is for him, too.

            "I love you," Baz says, his voice low. That makes it an even ten, and the first five times he said it were all at once. And a few were by giving the signal, which maybe _shouldn't_ count, but it does to me.

            I try to breathe him in, hold on to enough of his scent to get me through the next three months.

            "Give me your shirt," I say, my voice muffled between his chest and the bed.

            "Alright." He's tracing circles on my back. He can't see my face, so I let myself tear up, gripping the shirt tightly. Trying to pull him closer, but we can't _get_ any closer.

 _Fuck._ And I thought hating him was hard.

            When he's gone, the shirt is all I have. It's the grey v-neck, my favourite. I put it on then put my own shirt back over it. I tuck the gold chain into both.

            But... it's _not_ all I have. I have his words.

            I play them on repeat in my head. Like my favourite song. Like a spell. Like a prayer. I say goodbye to Penny and Agatha, and the Mage, and I can still hear them.

            I board the train to Liverpool. Which, if you had told me I'd be living there before all this, would have sent me over the moon. All I would have done was wonder about how I was going to get free from the care home to see a match. But I'm not thinking about football at all. It doesn't even occur to me that the Liverpool on my ticket is _the Liverpool_ until I'm halfway there.

            The only thing on my mind is him saying, _"I'll always come back for you, Simon."_ Just his voice, just those words, over and over. Until they all blur together.

            Until it's just one word:

_"...always...always...always."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So as you maybe guessed or read in comments, the story does not end here! Part 3 is absolutely the last in this series. 
> 
> Thank you so much for making it this far with me (this has now exceeded the length of Carry On. woof.). I read every comment a dozen times and it feels so wonderful to have people talking about my writing and wanting to see more. You always make me laugh, and occasionally make me cry with your sincere enjoyment of this completely self-indulgent little story. **I love you all** and I love our fandom!
> 
> Until next time. <3
> 
> Ell
> 
> So long and thanks for all the kudos!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Comments and kudos keep me writing and improving!
> 
> let's be friends:  
> [tumblr](https://so-not-that-cool.tumblr.com/)  
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/sonotthatcool)  
> [youtube](https://www.youtube.com/user/sonotthatcool)


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